Sugar
by LadyJirachi
Summary: Broke college student Mogami Kyoko finds herself lured into a compelling world of opulence, money and sex through a mysterious but obscenely wealthy man known as Tsuruga Ren. Sugardaddy!Ren AU. AUs collection.
1. Chapter 1

**Verse:** 'Sugar'.

* * *

Kyoko was tired.

Fuck that, she was exhausted. She'd worked a late shift the night before waiting tables at the Steak and Grill—a casual-dining restaurant downtown—until half past eleven, then taken a cab home to her tiny apartment and crashed in her futon. Coupled with the fact that she'd had classes from eight in the morning to four in the evening, she was completely wrecked.

It wasn't like she had a choice. As a college student struggling to keep herself afloat amidst her crushing student loans and her monthly rent, she was forced to work her ass off through a variety of part-time jobs. Her estranged lawyer mother had cut her off once she'd graduated high school, so she'd been on her own ever since, and not just financially. She hadn't seen her mother in years.

The girl was currently lying with her head on one of the quilted maple tables inside Starbucks, the rich papery smell of her opened textbook up in her nose. As much as she wished she could sleep in today, her finals were approaching and she needed to study her text—Shakespeare's _A_ _Midsummer Night's Dream—_ extensively in preparation.

A library would usually be more preferable to Kyoko since she wouldn't have to buy an overpriced drink to stay there, but owing to the fact that her best friend Kanae worked as the barista in this Starbucks branch, drinks were usually on the latter. It was a reasonable exchange since it meant Kanae received her friend's company in the somewhat empty café most days. Not that Kanae would ever admit wanting Kyoko's company; all she'd said was that drinks were on her ("not the too expensive ones, mind you") and Kyoko could come if she wanted.

Fortunately for Kanae, Kyoko was good at reading between the lines.

Out of consideration for her friend, Kyoko always bought the cheapest items on the menu. It was peach green tea today, which she'd barely touched, choosing instead to doze on the table nearest to the counter and over her opened books. She heard the wind chimes tinkle, a sign that someone had entered the café, and she looked up blearily.

It was him.

'Him' referred to the same man that habitually visited this particular Starbucks branch once or twice a week, but not on any fixed days. His order was always the same, however: an iced Americano.

Kyoko could tell, as could Kanae whenever they privately discussed him, that he had money. He wasn't ostentatious, but the fine cut of his wool mix overcoat was telling, as was the Rolex around his wrist. He was also very attractive, with a full head of windswept dark hair and aristocratic, angular features that never failed to draw her attention: dark obsidian eyes, high cheekbones, a sensuous, thin-lipped mouth and a strikingly defined jawline.

Willing herself not to ogle the tall man as he approached the counter, Kyoko decided to go back to sleep. A few more minutes, she told herself, and she'd get back to reading _A Midsummer Night's Dream._

It was, as far as she was concerned, her worst and best year in college so far. The books she was assigned to cover this year for her English Literature major appealed to her greatly, especially _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ Being able to study a book about actual living fairies, which was one of her favourite things in the world ever? There was nothing more magical to her about that.

But unfortunately, one of the restaurants she waited at had closed down, which indicated a significant loss of income for her already unstable financial situation. She needed to find another part-time job soon, but luck had been against her recently; she'd been late for two job interviews she'd had scheduled because her alarm hadn't gone off for the first one, and the bus she'd taken for the second had broken down midway through traffic.

Needless to say, Kyoko hadn't gotten either job.

Maybe she should consider being a stripper, she thought. The pay was pretty good. But she'd need to go on a diet that didn't involve mac and cheese for dinner almost every night if she wanted a banging body.

That sounded like more work than her job hunt, and besides, which lunatic would give up mac and cheese for a stupid flat stomach?

"Excuse me."

Startled out of her half-asleep stupor, Kyoko jumped up violently from her seat, dried drool on one side of her mouth and bits of her dyed copper hair stuck to her other cheek. She must look a sight, with her T-shirt wrinkled as hell—ironing was not on her priority list these days—and her short hair a mess.

" _Cheese_!" she blurted, still not fully awake yet.

There was a silence. Kyoko found herself staring at the black-haired man who stood by her table, dressed in a dark shirt under his overcoat and holding an iced Americano. He was gazing back at her, his onyx eyes slightly widened in surprise at her unexpected and forceful outburst. He also appeared, to her mortification, as if he was trying to fight back a small smile.

"S–Sorry," Kyoko said, her face burning by now. She was definitely fully awake at this point. "Please ignore what I said."

"No, I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said gently. "I just wanted to let you know your bag is getting wet."

"My—?" Kyoko directed her eyes to her backpack sitting beside her on a second chair. To her dismay, she spotted a prominent damp spot spreading on the grey polyester. As she watched, a single voluminous drop of water from the ceiling fell and landed right on top of the backpack.

Suppressing a curse, Kyoko rose and grabbed the chair her backpack was on and yanked it away from where the air-conditioning was leaking.

Then she stopped, and looked awkwardly back at the man.

"Um, th–thank you very much," she said, gracing him with a deep bow. "You're a very good person!"

She instantly cringed. She was a lot of things, but socially adept she was not.

"I don't really know about that, but thank you for saying so," he murmured, and there was no denying the smile in his rich baritone voice now, even if she didn't dare to look back up at him. "If you'll excuse me."

Kyoko straightened up slowly, watching abashedly as he departed in unhurried, long-legged strides. Kanae gave the male a slight polite bow from the cash register as he moved past her to the door of the café.

The wind chimes tinkled a final time, and then he was gone.

" _You're a good person_?" Kanae crackled the moment the door shut. "Are you for real?"

"Stop it, Moko-san!" Kyoko wailed. "You know how awkward I am around strangers!"

She groaned, sinking back heavily into her chair. She had enough on her plate already, and now there was the additional memory of how she'd made a fool of herself to add to it. Fortunately, the café was otherwise empty at the moment, which meant only Kanae and the mysterious male had witnessed her humiliation. Mustering all of her courage, the girl peered diffidently through the windows of the café.

The man had gotten gracefully into a sleek Bugatti parked by the curb, the driver's side of the door drawing closed.

"Wow," Kanae said approvingly, going over to where Kyoko was sitting and peering out the window as well. "Now that's a car I want to have."

"Can we just forget this ever happened and let me study in peace?" Kyoko sighed, going back to her books. Parts of the pages were stained by her drool, much to her chagrin.

"I don't know about you, but I study with my eyes open instead of them closed," Kanae drawled, gliding over to the cash register again. "And no, I can assure you I won't be forgetting what happened today." She snickered. " _Cheese_. What the hell was that?"

It was a good question, Kyoko lamented. She really needed to stop dozing in public if she wanted to quit making a spectacle of herself.

And yet something, she later realised, had changed that day.

When she arrived to the Starbucks café again three days later, she'd come across the man once more. She'd typically never spoken to the man prior to the day she'd embarrassed herself, and they had never in the past made eye contact either. He had always been someone she had shyly observed from the corner of her eye when he wasn't looking.

But when Kyoko saw him enter the café again, dressed in that expensive-looking wool mix overcoat and long dress pants, he had glanced carelessly across the place this time, only to meet her eye from where she sat by the table. And then, unexpectedly, after a pregnant heartbeat, he had _smiled_ at her, a gesture that made her heart flip maniacally in her chest.

Rooted to the spot with her body as stiff as a board, she'd returned his warm, friendly smile with an awkward grin that probably made her resemble the Joker. She was sure it did, since his lips had risen further at whatever he'd seen on her face.

They hadn't exchanged words this time. He'd paid for his iced Americano, and then left, but not without another faint, lingering smile at Kyoko.

Kanae had had a field trip that day. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon cooing at a flushing Kyoko and telling her that she'd met her Prince Charming. Suffice to say, Kyoko had thrown almost all of her pens at the teasing cashier.

The copper-haired girl was contemplating never going to the Starbucks café again if it meant avoiding Kanae's teasing, but also, if she was being perfectly honest, because there was some truth to her friend's words. She might— _might_ being the keyword—have a little crush on the enigmatic male.

Which was stupid, she knew. He was, as aforementioned, an absolute mystery to her. For starters, she didn't even know his name. His being attractive and the fact that his smile made her heart go berserk weren't enough basis to like someone. She generally wanted to get to know someone a little better before taking an interest in them.

But it wasn't as if Kyoko's heart had ever listened to logic.

* * *

The next time she saw him again, she'd been caught in the rain.

Kyoko had alighted at the bus stop and begun her ten minute walk to the café when the downpour had erupted from practically nowhere. One minute the golden sunlight had been beating down upon her from an open sky, and the next, a cluster of downcast clouds had gathered and a shower of cold rain had started falling. Cursing, Kyoko had taken off into a sprint, regretting that she hadn't brought her umbrella out. She'd been utterly deceived by the sunny weather when she'd left her apartment.

Clutching the opened Ziploc bag of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich that she'd been initially munching on to her chest, Kyoko had ran down the curb as fast as she could in spite of the relentless droplets of water pelting her face. There was unfortunately no shelter along the way since she was travelling by an open road. At least she'd kept her school books inside her backpack, so they should hopefully be safe for now.

By the time she'd ducked under the gigantic green umbrella directly outside Starbucks, she was drenched, her copper hair plastered to her face and her sodden hoodie jacket and jean skirt adhered to her slender, petite form. She stood huddled under the umbrella for a second, glad for a brief reprieve from the cold elements of the unforeseen shower.

Kyoko was peering down sadly at her soggy and ruined sandwich when the door to the café opened, and her very elegant mystery man stepped out in a black wool coat, his iced Americano in one slender, long-fingered hand. The rain landed on him for a brief second before he moved languorously under the shade.

He slowly arched a dark brow when he saw her.

Kyoko froze. She darted her eyes instinctively to her right, and noticed for the first time that the familiar sleek outline of a Bugatti was parked by the curb.

Then she looked back sheepishly at him.

Great. First she'd embarrassed herself that day, and now she looked like a drowned rat.

Kyoko had barely opened her mouth to speak when she broke into a violent sneeze.

"S–Sorry," she managed, rubbing her running nose with a damp hand, then stopped when he walked calmly up to her, reaching fluidly into the pocket of his trousers as he did so.

Kyoko blinked rapidly as he held out a single cotton handkerchief towards her. It was large and white and very dry.

"Oh, um," she stammered, not knowing whether she should take it. "It's–it's okay…"

The corners of his lips rose, and instead of insisting she take it, as she'd half-expected, he moved closer, setting down his drink on the table under the umbrella, and gently dabbed her wet forehead with it.

Kyoko went as still as stone. She was so stunned she didn't know to react. He merely continued dabbing her forehead, and then to the side of her left cheek, gently rubbing away the beads of rain coating her skin.

When his handkerchief caressed the side of her wet lips, however, she sprang into life, a flush suffusing her cheeks.

"It's okay, I can do the rest myself!" Kyoko insisted hoarsely, attempting to seize hold of the handkerchief and accidentally grazing his warm fingers in the process.

She squeaked loudly in response at the electrifying skin contact, leaping slightly back. He looked at her, his raised hand still holding his handkerchief, and this time, she saw him breaking into an amused smile at her dramatic reaction, his obsidian eyes soft and almost affectionate.

"Here," he said, placing the handkerchief onto the table, and then withdrawing his hand away from it. "You can come and take it now."

Kyoko was mortified.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, shuffling over to the table and picking up the slightly wet handkerchief. "I didn't mean to be rude. I'm very grateful…"

"Don't be," he murmured. "It's nothing."

"No," Kyoko disagreed, her face heated. "It's not nothing. I was rude, and I'm really sorry." She rubbed her other cheek tentatively with the large handkerchief. "Thank you for this, by the way…"

She noticed he was looking, however, at the Ziploc bag she held in her other hand.

"What is that?" he inquired bemusedly, cocking his head to one side.

"Oh." Kyoko dropped her gaze ruefully at the mushed remains of her sandwich. "That was my lunch. I guess I can't have it anymore."

There was another wordless pause. Kyoko thought she saw surprise flit through his gorgeous profile, followed by some other emotion she couldn't decipher, but it was gone before she could take a closer look. Now he just looked thoughtful.

"Anyway," she said quickly. "I should probably be getting in. I can get myself a chicken pie at Starbucks for lunch."

She was lying straight through her teeth. There was no way in hell she was wasting ten dollars on some overpriced chicken pie, no matter how good it might taste. Right now she was on a tight budget, which meant she refused to fork out anything beyond ten dollars for a meal. Heck, even anything above six was pushing it.

"You shouldn't," he said softly.

That caught Kyoko's attention. "What?'

"You shouldn't go into air-conditioning like this." Kyoko knew he was referring to her dripping frame. "You'll catch a cold."

"Oh." She fidgeted self-consciously. "That's true."

Much as she hated to admit it, she truly couldn't afford to fall sick now.

"Hmm…" he mused, glancing to a bistro beside the café. "That doesn't have air-conditioning. You could have your lunch there."

Kyoko's breath hitched. Have lunch as in… by herself? It sounded like he was implying she eat by herself.

Through the windows of the bistro she could see slow-moving ceiling fans inside. It was a lovely, fancy Western bistro that she'd noticed from time to time whenever she passed by into Starbucks. The problem was, all the establishments on this street were of a higher class, which meant the menu from the bistro would probably be a smidge out of her budget.

And by a smidge, she was guessing a lot. She could tell already from the scribbled words on the charcoal board outside the bistro, which was promoting the highlight of the day: a sirloin steak for thirty dollars. That was, she supposed, not expensive for good steak, but it was definitely way beyond her current budget.

"Um," Kyoko began. She had no clue if he was saying he would like to eat with her, or if he was simply suggesting that she dine there herself. It would be embarrassing if she assumed the former or asked him to clarify. "That's a good suggestion, actually. Maybe I'll go in and take a look at the menu. I mean, it'd be a total upgrade from my PBJ." She gave an unnaturally high-pitched laugh.

"It would." He glanced at the Ziploc bag in her hand, his slender fingers closing over it, then gently but firmly extracted the item from her grasp.

Kyoko could only stare mutely with sinking shock as he carelessly tossed the Ziploc bag into a bin right beside the table in a single fluid motion, having discarded it as if it was nothing more than a dirty tissue.

A part of her was tempted to admonish him for being surprisingly dictatorial, but he turned then and gave her a wide, almost angelic smile when she tried to speak. From the way his obsidian eyes twinkled at her beneath those long sooty lashes, she thought he looked quintessentially benevolent. She couldn't deny there was a sort of deceptively gentle beauty to him that made it hard to resist.

"Thank you…" Kyoko mumbled automatically, though she had no idea what she was thanking him for.

His sweet smile turned softer, into something less innocent, and more cryptic and thoughtful. She was even more taken aback when, in response, he smoothly removed his coat, revealing the loose turtleneck sweater he wore underneath.

"Wha—?" she started, and turned rigid again when she felt him drape the expensive blended wool over her head. Through the warm material, she could smell his scent: tantalising hints of cinnamon, whiskey, a decadent cologne she couldn't identify, and something else that she suspected was unique to him.

He was murmuring in her ear now, the cultured baritone barely audible through the din of the rain. And yet she felt the sound go right through her being.

"We'll need to get out under the umbrella for a minute to walk to the bistro. Is that all right?"

She struggled to rein in her blush.

"W–wait," Kyoko said, her face as red as a tomato. "You don't have to lend this to me. I can go by myself. It's okay. It'll only be a minute like you said."

She thought she heard him laugh, but it was hard to tell over the downpour and with the coat over her ears.

"May I know your name?"

Kyoko's pulse turned erratic. That wasn't what she'd been expecting him to respond with at all.

"Mogami Kyoko," she whispered.

"I see." She felt his arm move around her through the wool of the coat. "Shall we then, Mogami-san?"

But he was going to get wet! He didn't have anything to cover himself with!

She tried to argue, but it was too late. With a gentle push on her diminutive shoulders, she found herself being steered out from under the humongous umbrella and through the howl of the rain, all the while with him by her side. A torrent of icy droplets splattered her bare legs, but the heady warmth of his coat and his reassuring, hard arm around her shoulders were more than enough to anchor her through the discomfort.

And even then, Kyoko realised she still didn't know his name.

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** This is going to be a collection of various ongoing AUs, with the verse of this chapter being called 'Sugar', because—ahem—yes, this verse for now is a sugardaddy!AU. Please don't come at me if you hate this sort of trope. It's something I've read so much as of late and now I feel tempted to try my hand in it.

Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Verse:** 'Sugar'.

* * *

It took less than a minute for them to enter the bistro, but by then her companion's coat had gotten wet as well.

Kyoko shivered as she pulled the blended wool off her head, grateful for the warmth within the bistro. She looked up, and found herself staring at a russet coffered ceiling with tangerine pendant lights. The bistro was filled with black mahogany tables and chairs, with little vases of fake lilies on every table. Rustic prints hung on the tan walls. There was also a bar situated to one side of the bistro, where a bartender stood, polishing a shot glass with a piece of cloth.

The bartender, upon sighting them, hurried over from behind the bar and towards them. He took the overcoat and led the pair to a table against the wall, and they both sat down, Kyoko flushing when she realised her companion was accompanying her. So had he meant all along that he would eat lunch with her? Or was he only seating himself to wait for the rain to pass?

The bartender slid two separate laminated menus towards them, and Kyoko took one, peeking under her copper fringe at her companion opposite her. He was running a hand through his wet dark hair, shaking his head slightly to shake droplets of rain off his thick locks.

"Sorry," she blurted, setting her backpack down on the chair beside hers.

The man paused, gazing down at her with those dark obsidian eyes. "Hm?"

"That you got wet," Kyoko explained abashedly. "You didn't have to offer me your coat."

The corners of his lips stirred into a gentle smile. "It's fine, Mogami-san."

"But—"

"There are many things I don't have to do," he said. "But the things I want to do and the things I have to do aren't always mutually inclusive."

Kyoko didn't know how to argue with that. "Right," was all she managed to say.

"Are your legs wet?"

"What?" Had she heard wrongly?

"Are your legs wet?" he said calmly. "The coat didn't manage to cover them in the rain."

"Oh." Kyoko looked down, willing her heartbeat to slow. "A little, I guess. But it's no big deal. They'll dry."

"Do you still have my handkerchief with you?"

Kyoko nodded, startled. "I'm not using your handkerchief to wipe my legs," she said in horror. "They'll dirty it!"

He raised his brows, and the corner of his lips rose again.

"Your legs aren't dirty, Mogami-san," he said quietly.

She flushed hard this time, unable to stop herself. "Sh–shall we look at the menu?"

He smiled a faint but knowing smile at her, but he didn't push the matter anymore. "Sure. But you should take off your wet jacket first, Mogami-san, or you might really catch a cold."

Kyoko complied mechanically, shrugging the soaked hoodie jacket off the relatively dry T-shirt she wore beneath.

Setting the jacket aside, she panned the menu, and suppressed a grimace as she took in the prices. Just as she'd thought, the items here were way, way beyond her budget, most of them escalating beyond twenty dollars. The cheapest dish that could work as a meal was a baked potato salad priced at twelve dollars, and she knew that she'd have to settle for that. Sure, she'd ordinarily never pay for anything over ten dollars for a meal, but this was the best she could do considering her current circumstances.

"I'm getting myself the baked potato salad," Kyoko announced, putting down the menu.

"You don't want to try the sirloin steak?" he inquired, setting down his copy of the menu as well.

"Nah, I'm not feeling steak today," she lied, as if there was anyone who didn't ever feel like having steak.

"Hmm," he mused, perusing the menu again, his dark eyes looking through the listed items before he slowly looked back at her. She froze in her seat, hoping he hadn't noticed that the potato salad was the cheapest in price. "So you would enjoy steak on other days?"

"Some days, yeah," Kyoko said, fidgeting. "I mean, I'm not vegan, or anything."

He didn't say any more, but lifted his hand to beckon the bartender over. The latter returned from the bar, holding a notepad in his palm.

"I'd like a potato salad, please," her lunch companion said, glancing at Kyoko, who nodded gratefully. "And I'd like a sirloin steak, and two bowls of mushroom soup."

"Wait—" Kyoko sat up, not having expected the addition of soup.

"Some hot soup should warm us both up," he said, tilting his raven head at her. The angelic expression had returned to his demeanour, and she felt taken aback. "Is that all right, Mogami-san?"

Much as she wanted to protest further, she held herself back. She would look really pathetic if she couldn't even appear to afford mushroom soup, even if that was her reality. A part of her was as proud as Kanae, and she didn't want to let him in on the fact that she was completely broke right now.

 _Never mind_ , she thought to herself. She'd just have to skip a couple of meals from here on out to make up for her lost money.

"Sure," Kyoko relented, her tone deceptively breezy. "Yeah. No problem."

He rewarded her with a full, dazzling smile, and she forced a watery smile back, feeling a little dazed by the impact of his smile.

"Would you like anything to drink?" the bartender asked, and Kyoko hastily stepped in before this escalated further out of control. At this rate, she wouldn't be able to eat for a week if she wanted to make up for this splurge.

"Nah, the soup will do for me as a drink," she said firmly. "But of course, as for, um…" She gestured weakly at her companion, realising with a jolt that she still didn't know his name.

"I have this." The man lifted his iced Americano. "So no, that will do. Thank you."

The bartender nodded, tucking his notepad into the pocket of his apron before bowing slightly and then leaving for where Kyoko presumed was the kitchen.

She turned back to her companion. "Um… I just realised I still don't know your name."

He laughed. "That's true. I suppose you don't."

"So, er…" Why wasn't he taking the hint? "May I know your name?"

"You may." He was still looking at her, the amused smile curving his lips.

"So, er… er…" Kyoko was sweating now. What was she doing wrong? Why wasn't he just telling her his name? "I'm sorry, do you not want to say your name, or something? Are you a singer or some celeb undercover?"

He laughed again, sipping his Americano. "Not at all, Mogami-san. I can't sing."

"Then…" Kyoko stared open-mouthed at him, unsure of how to proceed.

He put down his drink and laughed harder, a full, rich sound this time.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, sounding genuinely contrite. "I went a bit overboard teasing you. It's just… well, you make it a little easy." He propped his chin on his Rolex-wristed hand and regarded her carefully. "My name is Tsuruga Ren."

"Oh." Kyoko mocked a glare at him, but her lips were twitching too. "That really wasn't funny, Tsuruga-san. I thought you were an FBI agent or something."

"An FBI agent wouldn't make a show of hiding his name," he said dryly. "That'd only attract more attention."

"I suppose that's true," she said, fiddling with the tablecloth. Now that they had properly settled down, she couldn't believe this was happening, that she was really having lunch with the mystery man at Starbucks.

"Tell me about yourself, Mogami-san," he prompted curiously. "Are you a student?"

Kyoko jerked in her seat. "How did you know?"

"You were studying in Starbucks," Ren—in her mind, she liked to think of him as his first name, for some reason—observed. "A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

She brightened. "You know that play?"

"It's very famous," he conceded. "I've read it before."

"True, I mean it's Shakespeare," Kyoko said. "I study English Lit at Taisho University."

"I see," Ren said interestedly. "Is English Literature your passion?"

She nodded eagerly. "I'm hoping to become a literature teacher once I graduate. It's my dream."

 _If I can pay back my loans and graduate in time,_ she reflected gloomily, but she tamped the unwanted thoughts down. With this elegant, polished man, she wanted to show the best version of herself to him, and a broke student trying to make ends meet was not that.

"I can see you as a teacher," he remarked.

Kyoko blinked. "Really?"

Ren nodded. "The first step to being a good teacher," he said thoughtfully, "is wanting to teach. And it seems you do."

"I guess you're right." Kyoko smiled. "Though that applies to most jobs."

"Have you done any jobs other than teaching?" he asked.

"Well, I'm a waitress some days," Kyoko said uncomfortably.

"Do you think you're good at that?"

"I'd like to think I am," she said sheepishly.

"But you don't have a passion for waitressing, do you?" he said.

Kyoko barely held back a resounding "no". She hated waitressing with a passion.

Instead, she settled for shaking her head.

"Some jobs are different," he said finally. "Some jobs you do well, to stay alive."

Kyoko sucked in her breath. Did he suspect she was broke? She hadn't been that transparent, had she? She prayed not.

"Right," she acknowledged. "For some people, yeah."

 _Not me—_ the message rang a little too clearly in her words, and she struggled not to wince at her lack of finesse.

Ren smiled at her, but he didn't comment, and she wished more than anything then that she could read his mind behind those unfathomable dark eyes.

She was saved, however, by the reappearance of the bartender with a tray containing two bowls of steaming mushroom soup. The rich, creamy smell made her stomach rumble, which was thankfully drowned out by the thundering rain outside the bistro. The bartender placed a bowl in front of each of them, and they both thanked him politely in unison.

"There's something I'm curious about, Mogami-san," Ren murmured, after the bartender withdrew.

Kyoko looked up at him, guessing with some apprehension that he was about to ask regarding her waitressing. "What is it?"

"The other day," he said casually, "when I woke you up. You said, " _cheese_ ". Why?"

Her cheeks suffused a deeper shade of red. "You remember that?"

"Did you wish I forgot?" Ren teased.

Hell yeah, she did, but she decided against voicing that aloud.

"I was dreaming about mac and cheese," Kyoko revealed, sighing. "That's all."

To her incredulity and disbelief, his brows rose, and the tip of his perfect Greek nose wrinkled in clear disdain.

"Oh God," she said. "Do you hate mac and cheese or something?"

"I don't hate it," he said simply. "It just doesn't appeal to me."

"Why not?" she pressed, bringing the spoon of rich, thick mushroom soup to her lips. It tasted delicious, creamy and fragrant, and she wanted to groan at the extravagant texture.

He canted his raven head in thought.

"Let's see," he said. "It doesn't have much nutritional value, nor is it anything gourmet. It's simply cheese spread over carbs. It offers absolutely no variety or nuances in flavour."

Kyoko gawked at him, feeling horribly affronted that he'd insulted her God.

"I will have you know, Tsuruga-san," she said, "that mac and cheese is one of my favourite foods of all time. I can't believe you said that. I mean, this mushroom soup—" She jabbed her spoon at the bowl. "—doesn't have any variety in flavour either other than boring old mushroom and chowder!"

Unfortunately, she'd said it the same time the bartender appeared by the table with a tray containing a plate of sizzling sirloin steak and a plate of baked potato salad, and he looked down at her.

"I'm sorry," the unamused bartender said dourly, placing the plates on the table. "Do you want a new bowl if it's not to your taste?"

"No, no!" Kyoko gasped, mortified. She wanted nothing more than to bury herself into a hole and never resurface again. "It tastes fantastic. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I was just… um, making a point to my friend here… It was a—a metaphor…"

"Okay," the bartender replied, though he didn't look too convinced. He left with the empty tray, and she turned her horrified hazel eyes back towards her lunch companion.

Tsuruga Ren was holding up his iced Americano, the light glinting off the glass face of his expensive wristwatch, but the twinkling mirth in his obsidian eyes was an instant giveaway to the fact that he was smiling behind his drink.

"I cannot believe you made me do that!" Kyoko fired at him.

"I'm sorry," he said easily—too easily. "Let me make it up to you."

Gracefully, he placed the plate of steak before her, and took the plate of potato salad for himself.

"Wait!" Kyoko gaped. "What are you doing?"

"An apology for earlier," Ren said with an angelic smile.

"You—you… You didn't make me say what I said, so it's fine," she said, aghast. "It's not your fault. And I wanted… I wanted potato salad today."

"All right." He took a new clean spoon off the basket of silverware and scooped a small portion of baked potato salad onto a fresh plate that had been assigned to their table, then returned the original plate to her side of the table. "There you go."

"Tsuruga-san—"

"Truthfully? I've already had lunch today," he revealed. "So I'm not hungry, Mogami-san."

Kyoko stared, red-faced, at him.

"You have?" she stammered. "Then why are you—"

"Because I wanted to make sure you ate something decent today that wasn't a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," Ren said gently. "If you don't mind my saying so… You look very thin, Mogami-san. Too thin."

Kyoko was speechless.

"Right," she said, struggling to keep her image—the one where she wasn't a sad, broke student—afloat. It didn't help that his revelation pretty much meant he saw her as a pathetic charity case. "It's not that I can't afford to eat what I usually want. But I'm on a diet, is all. To be a bit thin. I used to be a lot fatter."

Okay, now she sounded like she had an eating disorder, which didn't exactly fare well for her image either.

"I don't have an eating disorder!" Kyoko interjected again in a panic, then cringed.

"Mogami-san." Ren's lean, long-fingered hand rested over hers on the table, enveloping her far smaller one effortlessly. She stiffened at the soothing warmth of his touch. "It's all right. Calm down."

She decided to shut up, which seemed like the best approach to attempting to calm down right now.

He looked like he was barely suppressing a smile, she thought.

"All diets have cheat days," he said softly. "Let's take today as one, shall we?"

A cheat day. That sounded nice, to not have to constantly fret about the financial repercussions for every meal she ate, or to count every dime in her pocket as she bought something, until she thought about the monstrosity of a bill she'd have to face later.

"What if I already had a cheat day yesterday?" Kyoko asked meekly. "Then I can't have two consecutive days, can I?"

"Did you have a cheat day yesterday, Mogami-san?" he said quietly, his obsidian eyes boring intently into her wide hazel ones.

"... No," she admitted.

He smiled now. "All right. Then let's enjoy today. Here." He lifted the fork and knife from the basket and offered them towards her.

"Thank you," Kyoko said, taking the cutlery, because she didn't know what else to say.

"You're welcome," he responded.

She cut into the steak, her mouth salivating despite herself at the juices bubbling from under the blade of her knife, revealing a fresh succulent slice of pink steaming flesh under the crisp brown crust of skin. The luscious, ripe aroma was making her head spin, and she took a bite of the chunk of hot steak she'd cut clumsily off with her knife.

Heaven. Paradise. She was there. God, no wonder a rich man like Tsuruga Ren looked down on mac and cheese. It felt sacrilegious, but not even mac and cheese could compare to something like good old steak. She chewed at the tender, juicy meat ecstatically as its flavourful juices erupted on her palate and taste buds, unable to focus on anything else for that second, not even her impending bill.

By the time she'd swallowed the mouthful of steak and came back to Earth, she realised she'd been in a stupor far longer than she'd thought.

"S—sorry," Kyoko began, looking up at Ren. Her breath stopped in her throat, however, at the way he was gazing intently at her, his hand still propping his chin—those exotic dark eyes were lidded, and if even possible, darker than before, his lashes casting sensuous shadows across his porcelain high cheekbones.

"Sorry," she said again, in a higher-pitched voice than before. "You wanna try some?"

"No." Ren continued gazing at her with those lingering dark eyes. _Bedroom eyes,_ she thought with a jolt, then drew in a sharp breath. "It's all for you, Mogami-san. Every little bite."

Kyoko summoned a weak smile, wishing her knees didn't feel so weak. "You do this often?"

"Do what often?" Ren arched a brow.

"Feel sorry for skinny girls and bring them to lunch?" she said, trying to sound light-hearted.

His lips lifted for a fleeting moment, but when he spoke, it was gone.

"No, Mogami-san," he answered. "Just you." He tilted his head. "As for how I feel towards you..."

He was still gazing at her like that, and she didn't know why, but she couldn't focus on her steak, scrumptious as it was. "It definitely isn't pity."

She wanted to ask how he felt, but something that wasn't steak was lodged in her throat, keeping her from asking.

"... R—Right," Kyoko forced out, and shoved another forkful of steak in her mouth.

Smiling, he lifted his Americano, and suddenly, just like that, the strange tension seemed to dissipate as the look in his eyes faded.

She wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed about that.

"So, um, Tsuruga-san," Kyoko said, after she'd swallowed. "What do you do? I've only just been talking about me the whole time…"

Ren looked faintly surprised by her question. "I work in a firm."

Something felt off. A firm? What kind of firm did he work for that earned him that Rolex, that Bugatti, that multi-dollar suit he frequently wore? Surely there had to be more to it than that.

"So… What does your firm do?" Kyoko probed.

"It's a medical corporation," he said. "It owns many private hospitals under its name. Have you heard of Queen Victoria?"

He mentioned a few more hospitals, and she nodded, astounded. Those were well-known here in Japan.

"Does the firm only own hospitals in Japan?" Kyoko quizzed.

"No, we have plenty worldwide too," he said candidly.

"Oh." Kyoko tried to process the information. "Are you a doctor for one of the hospitals?"

"Mmhmm," he said noncommittally.

Sensing there was something he didn't want to fully share, she decided against pushing it. She enjoyed their friendship as it was right now, and that was enough. Besides, it wasn't like she was being completely upfront with him either about her financial status.

Speaking of finances…

She'd polished off her plate of steak fast because of her hunger and how fantastic it tasted, but now she could feel doom closing in on her as the bill approached.

"Sorry, Tsuruga-san, I don't think I can eat the potato salad," she croaked. He hadn't touched much of his share of potato salad either. "I'm bursting."

He laughed. "It's all right. Don't push yourself. No dessert, then?"

" _No_!"

Kyoko had blurted it with far more force than was appropriate, and hastily added upon seeing his bemused expression, "I mean, no. It's okay. I'm super full."

She waved at the bartender and asked for the bill, then, as the bartender left, she dug into her denim skirt pocket for her wallet and grabbed the entire wad of bills inside, praying that her money for the entire week was enough.

"Mogami-san." Ren's warm hand touched her wrist, halting her motions, and she stared up into his widened onyx eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Huh?" Kyoko furrowed her brows in bafflement. "Er… Getting ready to pay? We're not dining and dashing, are we? That's illegal."

He stared at her wordlessly for a while, and then said, very gently, "Mogami-san, did you think I was going to make you pay?"

"What do you mean, did I think?" she stammered. "I ate almost everything, so obviously…"

He didn't speak right away, just continued studying Kyoko like she was some kind of alien, and finally, after a pregnant heartbeat, he said, calmly, "So you thought I would coax you to enjoy a cheat day and have you foot the bill?"

"That's not—" Kyoko tried to argue, but he cut her off.

"I'll pay for today, Mogami-san," Ren said, as the bartender approached with the bill. "And if you'd like to pay me back, you can treat me to a meal. How about that?"

She watched him in dumbfoundment as he gracefully slid a sleek, platinum credit card from a leather wallet and passed it to the bartender.

"I don't…" Kyoko stuttered. That was the last thing she'd expected. "I mean… I guess that's—a–acceptable. What would you like me to treat you to?"

Ren smiled, his dark eyes gleaming.

"Hmm..." he mused, resting his chin once more on his hand. "Would you be free tomorrow night, perhaps?"

Tomorrow? She wasn't expecting it so fast!

"Well, it's Friday, and I don't have work, so I guess so," Kyoko answered weakly.

"I see," he murmured. "Why don't you give me your contact details, and I'll message you when I'm coming to pick you up. You just let me know where you'd like me to get you."

"Right," she said, dumbly. "Okay. Sounds good."

Ren held out a golden iPhone and slid it across the table towards her. She looked down at the dial pad, and mechanically punched in her phone number, then held it back towards him once she was done.

It felt heavy in her hand. Heavy with the kind of money it was worth, she thought.

Money she could never dream of affording.

She felt her own phone buzz in her pocket, and she fished it out. It was a call from an unknown number, and she looked back up at Ren, who held up his iPhone.

"That's my number," he informed her, with a smile. "Just so you know when I contact you."

Her heart was pounding madly in her chest from both excitement and nerves that she couldn't begin to understand.

"Right," Kyoko said. "I'll save you as…" She faltered, unsure of whether to just type his full name.

But if he was a friend, then it would be weird to type his full name. She didn't have Kanae's full name saved as Kanae's contact name, for instance. It was 'Moko-san'.

But saving him as just 'Ren' was far too forward too. They weren't that close.

What was he to her?

"Take your time to decide," Ren responded simply. He seemed to have read the dilemma in her face like words played out on paper, and it was made further evident by by his subsequent words.

"Maybe by tomorrow night, Mogami-san—you'll have an answer."

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** By the way, the chapters won't always be in chronological order/direct sequels to one another, so events can be written from all over the timeline for this Sugar!verse. This means you might randomly see chapters of Ren and Kyoko in the future or them in the past, etc.

I understand a lot of people were confused about my a/n from the last chapter. It's all right, you guys will see what I mean eventually!

In the meantime, thank you for reading. xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Verse:** 'Sugar'.

* * *

"Is there a Mogami-san here?"

Kyoko jumped in her chair, nearly shoving her textbook off the scratched table, and she peered apprehensively at the librarian standing at the front of the library, where the reception counter was. The bespectacled librarian was carrying a white gloss apparel box in her hands, and scanning the rows of occupants seated in the library.

"Um…" Kyoko raised her hand, suddenly feeling like she was in class again. Thankfully, the librarian spotted her before she had to speak again into the hushed silence of the library lounge, and the other woman walked towards her table in brisk strides.

"A deliveryman came here and asked me to pass this to you," the librarian said shortly, handing her the box. "In the future, please receive your mail at your own residence. This is not a post office."

"Yes, sorry," Kyoko apologised meekly, her insides shrivelling at the other woman's acerbic tone. As the latter left, she looked down at the box titled MULBERRY, her brows furrowing. How strange—who could have given this to her?

The answer swiftly came when she lifted the lid and saw a cream card lying on top of neatly wrapped paper. Handwritten in lovely italic cursive were the succinct words:

 _Mogami-san._

 _Would you be so kind as to wear this for me tonight?_

 _Love,_

 _Ren._

Kyoko could feel her face burning. She wasn't surprised he'd delivered this to the school library, since she had told him to pick her up here later this evening as she'd planned to study until then. Giving her personal address to a man she didn't really know—even a man as kind and gentle as him—didn't seem like a wise idea yet, and Kanane had approved of her decision when she'd heard about it.

"Good luck on your date," was what Kanae had said before Kyoko had left Starbucks last night.

Kyoko had swung around, mortified. "It's not a date! I'm just paying him back for the meal he treated me!"

"Right," Kanae had drawled boredly. "Because he's clearly so strapped for cash he needs to make sure you pay him back."

"It's called common courtesy!"

"Suuure." Kanae had waved sarcastically at her. "Now get your sorry ass outta here."

Kyoko could feel herself glowering at the mere memory, and she shook her head, trying to distract herself even as the cursive words, " _Love, Ren_ " floated in her vision. Turning the creamy card face-down before it sent her into cardiac arrest, she peeled the wrapping paper open, then sucked in a shallow breath when she saw layers of exquisite emerald Mulberry silk underneath. She had no idea if it was linked to the brand, but the unique quality of silk was undeniable.

She stopped, then grabbed her phone off the table and started texting Ren, whom she had yet to save into her contacts. However, he'd texted her earlier informing her he'd pick her up at seven, and she'd agreed.

Returning to the conversation thread, she typed:

" _Tsuruga-san. I got your parcel. It's okay, I am wearing my own clothes, you know!"_

He didn't take long to reply.

" _Ah, I surmised as much. :) However, the establishment we're dining at tonight does have a rather particular dress code, so I wanted to uphold that. I hope I didn't trouble you too much, Mogami-san."_

She typed furiously.

" _What kind of establishment is it? Please take into consideration my not-so big wallet, Tsuruga-san :( I'm not sure if I can treat you to something too lavish, I'm sorry!"_

Kyoko could practically read the smile in his response.

" _Don't be. Don't worry. And I'm only loaning the dress to you, so don't feel too burdened about wearing it. Can you do that for me?"_

She hesitated. If he was only loaning the dress to her, she supposed it was fine. She would just return it to him once she'd laundered it clean, but it was made out of what looked to be Mulberry silk, and she was terrified of ruining such a decadent quality of silk.

Her fingers trembling, she typed out her answer.

" _All right."_

He responded with a sticker of a jubilant-looking rabbit dancing, its furry limbs flailing about, and she giggled soundlessly at that, before freezing.

Wait. He still hadn't told her what establishment they were going to! She dived back for her phone, her palms sweaty. She really hoped it wasn't anywhere too expensive, especially if it required her to wear a fancy dress. She couldn't afford to pay for herself in such a place, let alone for both of them.

Kyoko sent him another text pressing for details on the establishment, and he answered a few seconds later.

" _You're not treating me to anything you can't afford, I promise. :) All right?"_

Despite the relief she felt reading the text, it was also mingled with embarrassment. For someone who was supposed to pay him back for treating her to such a generous lunch yesterday, she sure sounded stingy now with her constant harping about the price. Cringing, she lowered her phone, feeling unhappy with herself.

It was better not to text him anymore for now, before she actually annoyed him, assuming she hadn't already annoyed him. Sighing, Kyoko returned to her books, picking up her highlighter.

She needed to study hard so that she could ace her exams and graduate with her degree. Once she'd established financial dependence, she would never have to worry so much about something like this anymore.

Maybe then, she would be able to stand with her head held high.

* * *

Kyoko stared at herself in the restroom mirror.

The dress Ren had given—no, loaned, she reminded herself—her was a breathtaking emerald silk wrap dress that was cinched at her tiny waist with a knotted tie, showing off her slim, svelte figure, and the dark but bold verdant hue complemented her dyed copper hair and large hazel eyes perfectly. The long, slightly puffed sleeves were sheer, so that her alabaster skin was hinted underneath, but the rest of the flowing dress was modest, the billowing skirt reaching her knees, and the neckline of the bodice just above any cleavage she could've shown.

It was also the loveliest dress she had ever worn, and it even went nicely with the tan ballet flats she'd worn out, which were the best pair of shoes she'd owned since she'd made the effort to dress nicely today.

But this stunning Mulberry silk dress blew all of her efforts right out of water.

Kyoko couldn't help herself; she preened before the mirror for several minutes, lifting the soft silk hem in her hands whilst staring reverently at her reflection. Suddenly aware she was wearing a dress that probably cost more than she could ever afford, she stopped, gulping. Reaching into her bag for her phone, she went to the website of the brand named Mulberry and skimmed through the endless list of dresses on its catalogue. Ren had not kept the price-tag in the box for obvious reasons, but she needed to know—

Kyoko stopped when a familiar flash of emerald caught her eye. She swallowed back a strangled gasp at the numbers beside her dress.

$2151.

What the fuck?! She was wearing 2151 worth of dollars on her body and she'd been twirling the dress around like it was some kind of toy?

Groaning at her own foolishness, she logged into her Twitter account in hopes to distract herself, and Tweeted:

 _"Today has been crazy. But… I actually feel less ugly today."_

She glanced idly at her Twitter handle: "Puckthefairy", which was named after her favourite character in _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. No one in her social circle actually knew of this account, since this was the account she used by the same handle as her blog's username. Only online readers of her blog—where she penned short works of dark literary fiction and occasional entries about her life—followed this Twitter account.

Her phone vibrated, and she saw that someone had commented on her Tweet. It was a foreign user by the handle, "Corn", who'd been a follower of her blog for a while now.

" _What happened?"_

Kyoko replied, " _Someone lent me a really lovely dress today. Made even little me look nicer! That's when you know that's a miraculous dress. xo"_

She wanted to answer more, but she saw the time—6:53 PM—and panicked. She needed to rush to the pickup point by the front of the library by seven, and she still hadn't finished applying her nude lipstick! Just a light sheen would do, she decided, since she'd ended up poring through her literature text so much earlier she hadn't the time to properly apply makeup.

Coupled with some concealer to hide her eye circles, she was done. Kyoko kept her concealer and lipstick into her backpack, and hoisted it on. Then she scrambled out of the toilet.

Not long later, about two minutes before seven, she found herself staring as the sleek, elegant outline of a Bugatti pulled up smoothly by the pickup stand, the purr of its engine like machined velvet. It was attracting a lot of attention from the students coming out of the library, especially the male ones, all of whom were eyeing the automobile in a mixture of awe and envy.

"Is that the Bugatti Chiron?" a boy muttered to another.

"Fuck, I can't believe I'd ever see one in real life…"

Tentatively, Kyoko approached the Bugatti, aware that everyone was now staring at her. She peered down nervously into the slightly tinted car window, and her heart performed a maniac somersault in her chest when she made out Ren, who glanced up and then smiled gently at her. Through the dim in the car, she could see the ebony blended wool of his coat, as well as the glint of his wristwatch—a Patek Philippe this time. Before he could open the door, however, she quickly scurried around the headlights of the Bugatti and to the side of the door leading to the passenger seat herself.

The interior of the car cabin was a dark red, much to her surprise, and she slid onto the luxurious leather seat, aware of the hushed hum of intelligible voices coming from the students surveying the car.

Shutting the door behind her, Kyoko looked up into Ren's amused dark eyes.

"S—Sorry," she gasped, releasing her backpack and setting it on her lap. "I know you were going to open the door for me, and I really appreciate it, but the students outside might see you, and I really didn't wanna attract any more attention than we already have…"

"It's fine," Ren assured her, though the corner of his lips tipped upwards. "Are you all right?"

"I'm good," she said breathlessly. "Totally good."

His dark eyes dipped to caress the slim curves of her body under the emerald Mulberry silk dress, and then back to her pinkening face.

"You certainly look that way," he said softly.

Kyoko blushed. "Thank you for lending me the dress," she blurted. "It's all thanks to—"

"The dress?" he finished for her.

Startled, she nodded. "The dress is very pretty," she added shyly, unsure of what he was getting at.

"But not you?" Ren asked slowly.

"Er…" Kyoko was mortified now. What was she supposed to say? Telling him the truth of how she felt wouldn't help matters either. "I don't know. A–Anyway, um—" She untactfully changed the subject. "Where are we going?"

He looked back at her with an unfathomable look in those dark obsidian eyes, but then smiled that familiar sweet, warm smile at her.

"It's a surprise," he said, reaching over her and, not seeming to notice her sharp intake of breath, he snagged the strap of her seatbelt by her shoulder and buckled her in. She could scent the tantalising hints of cinnamon, cologne and something unique only to him again, and her cheeks reddened further.

"Why won't you tell me?" Kyoko pouted, as he eased the Bugatti back onto the road, a hand turning the wheel with controlled dexterity. "I'm the one who's treating you, so shouldn't you let me know?"

"I'm the one being treated, so I'd like to choose," Ren rejoined playfully. "You said you'd eat whatever I like to eat, right?"

She nodded tentatively. She had indeed said that when he'd asked her prior. "I'm not a picky eater at all. Food is food. I'll swallow anything."

She instantly regretted the innuendo the moment it spilled from her lips.

There was a long silence, during which a horrified Kyoko blanched. This was why she hated socialising; she had no verbal filter since her mouth acted way faster than her brain. Only Kanae was used to her idiosyncrasies, but she couldn't say the same for most of her other acquaintances.

" _Pfft—_ "

Kyoko turned her head incredulously, only to find herself staring at a laughing Ren. In that moment as he laughed aloud, he looked so mirthful she almost thought she saw a boyishness in the man by the wheel.

She was entranced.

And as she eventually joined him in laughter, she realised then that she wanted to see more from this man.

Much, much more.

* * *

Kyoko fidgeted nervously in the passenger seat as the Bugatti slid smoothly to a halt. The awaiting valet opened the car door by the wheel and Ren handed his keys to the valet. Ren's laden glance towards her was enough to still Kyoko in her seat, and she stayed put obediently as he stepped out of the automobile before ambling to the side of the passenger's seat.

The car door opened, and she looked up at a smiling Ren dressed in a dark grey two-button suit under his topcoat, his thick black hair slightly tousled by the evening breeze, the headlights from the surrounding cars casting the angular, sculpted planes of his face in high relief.

"Thank you for playing along," he murmured, holding out a hand towards her.

She laced her delicate fingers with his bigger ones, her pulse accelerating at the warmth of his touch. "You're welcome."

He helped her out of the car, and she stood at full height slightly below his shoulders. They'd alighted under a porte cochere, and she stared dazedly up at the cathedral ceiling, illuminated by buttery golden lighting. She'd never been here before, which was no surprise since she rarely visited this street, where all the upper-end establishments were at. And these were quintessential upper-end establishments, of even higher class than the ones on the street where the Starbucks she visited was at.

Here, on this very street belonging to the wealthy, Starbucks was considered a budgeted cafe.

Which meant there was no way in hell Kyoko could ever dream of affording anything here.

"Tsuruga-san—" she hissed, but he leaned down and whispered in her ear, so closely a shiver coursed down her spine and settled in between her thighs.

"Trust me."

Trust him? Trust him?! Was he daft? If he thought Kyoko could afford to treat him to anything on this street, he had another thing coming! She could barely afford anything above ten dollars for a meal, and she'd actually braced herself for a budget up to twenty dollars today if it meant watching him eat instead of getting anything for herself.

Noting the other men dressed handsomely in tuxedos and women in varying forms of elaborate-looking dresses alighting from their luxury cars, Kyoko hesitated, not wanting to make a scene in front of them. Some women were even giggling as they glanced at Ren. Kyoko started when she felt a warm coat being laid over her shoulders, and realised that she'd been shivering from the cold evening air.

"Come, Mogami-san."

Having placed his topcoat over her, Ren pressed a hand gently to her back and, inhaling the smoky, masculine notes of his cologne, she allowed him to guide her into the open lobby awaiting them.

She didn't know what else to do. She could hardly throw a tantrum in front of all these onlookers, their regality matching even Tsuruga Ren's. And as she stepped into the grand lobby, thoughts of rebelling quickly slipped further away, and her breath hitched in her throat at the mesmerising sight.

The entire floor was marbled a deep caramel, and in the center of the lobby was a tuxedoed musician seated by a piano. His gloved hands danced expertly over the piano keys, playing a famous classical piece she'd heard before but could not recognise. Aureate candle chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and at the north of the lobby some distance away from the pianist was a tall podium, where a uniformed attendant stood behind it.

With Ren's hand still resting lightly on her back—his touch was light, but firm—she followed him to the podium.

The attendant at the back of the podium seemed to recognise Ren judging by the widening of his eyes, as did a few of the people standing by the podium. The attendant instantly stepped out from behind the podium and walked past the people before him, going straight towards Ren instead.

Kyoko was astonished. What kind of power did Ren have to allow the attendant to ignore the people that had come first?

Ren spoke, right before the attendant tried to speak.

"I have a reservation at half past seven, for two," he said calmly. "Under Tsuruga Ren."

"Ah, yes…" The surprised attendant checked his tablet, then bowed deeply at Ren. "Right this way, sir."

He led them towards a pair of frosted glass doors behind the podium, and Kyoko lowered her copper head slightly, acutely aware of the stares she was receiving from the onlookers. She followed the attendant past the opened doors, and finally raised her head again.

 _Wow._

The interior of the restaurant was even more opulent than the lobby. The floor here was carpeted a deep scarlet, and prism chandeliers hung from the coved ceiling this time instead of constituting candles, casting a rainbow kaleidoscope of iridescent lights across its opaline finish. Rounded marble tables of various sizes were delegated around the hall, flanked by velvet armchairs with clawed mahogany feet. Ceiling-to-floor windows surrounded the restaurant, providing the diners an unadulterated view of the vibrant city lights—a constellation of red, blue, yellow—outside. Situated near the back was a circular spot enveloped by prismatic glimmering curtains of lights, and through the opening in the curtains Kyoko could make out a woman seated on a bench within the spot, her fingers strumming a colossal harp and filling the restaurant with a soft, mellifluous melody.

The attendant led the pair towards a table right by the ceiling-to-floor window, and she stood there dumbly, staring out at the incandescent lighting of the skyscrapers outside whilst Ren removed the topcoat off her shoulders and quietly laid it over the armchair.

She sat down at last, too stunned to protest as he helped her into her seat before he sat directly opposite her. A waiter, dressed neatly in a blue linen suit, materialised, and laid two menus on either side of the marble table. Like with every table, a vase of mixed-coloured tulips sat on its center.

Kyoko darted her eyes around. The other diners were dressed to the nines, the men in suits or tuxedos, the women in intricate dresses and even a few in pantsuits. The flowery scents of expensive perfume were imbued with the sweet fragrance of champagne in the air.

Looking away from the other diners, she froze when she found herself looking straight into Ren's piercing obsidian eyes. He had his raven head cocked sideways as he watched her, his smooth pale cheek against his hand, his elbow resting elegantly on the wooden armrest of his armchair.

"Tsuruga-san," Kyoko forced out. She pinioned him with a challenging glower. "What happened to your promise that I could treat you to something I could afford?"

"Unbroken," he said, with a half-smile. He reached into his pocket and took out his iPhone, and she stared for a few seconds as he tapped something on the screen before passing the device to her.

It was a website of a sandwich joint, listing a diverse range of sandwiches each costing under ten dollars.

"Order me one online," Ren prompted innocently. "They'll deliver it to my address in an hour's time. I have an assistant at home who can collect and keep the sandwich for me."

Kyoko stared at him, wide-mouthed. She was so gobsmacked she didn't know how to respond for several seconds.

"But this isn't—" she stammered. "We were supposed to meet tonight so I could treat you to dinner."

"We've met, and you're treating me to dinner," Ren acknowledged, steepling his hands and nodding at the iPhone in her hands. "Right?"

"You're not having the sandwich for dinner now!"

"I can have it for dinner tomorrow," he pointed out sweetly.

"But—but—" Kyoko struggled to find the words. Blowing out her breath frustratedly, she finally mumbled, "I don't understand. Then what are we doing here?"

"For now, we're having dinner." Ren leaned across the table and gently tucked a stray strand of copper hair on her cheek over her ear, eliciting a fierce blush in her cheeks. "Do you know how you looked when you took the first bite of the steak yesterday, Mogami-san?"

She shook her head, her mouth dry.

"You looked beautiful," he said softly, and her pulse skyrocketed. "You seemed completely dazed, and there was a look of such unbridled pleasure on your face, like you'd forgotten and then remembered how enjoyment felt like. It beguiled me. I want to capture that expression again, and if fine dining is the first step towards that, I'll take it—for now."

"For now?" Kyoko echoed, her breathing uneven. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in her ears.

He smiled at her confused demeanour, opening the menu.

"Come, Mogami-san," he prompted, and she realised then that the smothering tension between them had passed, again. "Is there anything you'd like?"

"The sandwich…" Kyoko was still clutching his iPhone.

"We'll settle that later." Ren gently removed the phone from her sweaty fingers. With his other hand, he flipped open her copy of the menu.

She looked down, and instinctively, her brown eyes strayed to the numbers beside the culinary items.

"Tsuruga-san—"

"Don't look at the prices." Kyoko stiffened at his matter-of-fact statement, shocked at how he'd seen right through her. "With me, that's something you don't have to look at. Just look at what you want."

 _Just look at what you want._ That sounded like a dream so out of her reach, Kyoko wanted to laugh.

"I don't have a clue on how to live like that," she said weakly.

He took on that gorgeous, angelic smile again, but for the first time, she was beginning to realise it veneered something sly.

"I'll teach you, I promise."

"I…" Desperate to prove her point, she sifted through the menu. "I don't understand anything on the menu. What's a trout mousseline?"

Ren considered her words for a moment.

"Do you have a predilection for any foods in particular, Mogami-san?" he asked.

"Well…" Kyoko leaned back against her armchair, trying not to fidget. "I like meat. Any sort of meat, really."

"All right," he noted. He beckoned the waiter over, and Kyoko sat there, trying her best to decipher all the foreign terms Ren was using with the other male.

"Very good, sir," the waiter said. "And the drinks menu?"

Kyoko tensed as Ren regarded her curiously.

"Have you ever had wine before, Mogami-san?" he said.

She hesitated, wanting to lie and say yes and pretend she was sophisticated enough, but in the end, she admitted the truth. "No."

Ren smiled. "Would you like to try some?"

"It's… okay," Kyoko managed. "I'm not thirsty."

"I didn't ask if you were thirsty," he said gently. "Do you want to try some?"

She didn't reply. She couldn't. It took everything she had not to flip to the drinks menu and peruse the dollared digits beside the wine items.

Ren studied her affectionately, then turned to address the waiter.

"I'd like a Recioto for her, please," he said. "And the usual Macallan for me."

The waiter bowed, then kept the menus. "Very good, sir."

Once the waiter departed, Kyoko, her back hunched, spoke fixedly into her lap.

"I can't pay you back for this, okay?" she said defeatedly. "I don't have the money."

There was a weighted pause, and then—

"Are you crying, Mogami-san?"

Kyoko's head jerked up in shock, and saw that he looked genuinely concerned, his dark eyes melancholic.

Guilt hit her at once.

"No, of course not!" Kyoko clamoured. "Tsuruga-san brought me to such a beautiful place, with such a beautiful scenery, and you're about to treat me to a meal, so how could I be crying?"

Ren gazed at her for a fraction more, before his lips broke into a small smile.

"Then don't look so sad," he said. "All right?"

"I'm not sad, really," Kyoko insisted, struggling to catch her breath. "I just feel… bad."

"Don't," Ren said simply. "Difficult as it might be to believe, I didn't bring you here to feel bad, Mogami-san."

She was about to respond when the waiter appeared again, this time carrying a tray laden with a wine bottle and a crystal decanter filled with a deep amber liquid. He was accompanied by another waitstaff, and something about the second man's aproned uniform told her he was a sommelier.

"The Recioto della Valpolicella," the sommelier said, and deftly unscrewed the cork of the new wine bottle with a corkscrew.

Then he poured the contents of the bottle delicately into Kyoko's wine glass, revealing a ruby red liquid.

"The Macallan M," he added, lifting the crystal decanter next and pouring the Scotch into Ren's glass.

Kyoko eyeballed her wine glass nervously. Here she was, barely twenty, and she'd never had wine before. Her drink of choice had always been boba or soda whenever she had the money to splurge. A typical teenager's diet, Kanae often said, as if she wasn't Kyoko's age.

Ren didn't push her. From her peripheral vision she could see him sipping from his Scotch glass, but he said nothing to prompt her to pick up her wine glass.

She resisted the urge to bite her nails. It wasn't like she'd never wanted to try wine, but wine wasn't cheap and alcohol as a whole intimidated her. Deciding she was being the world's biggest wuss for being intimidated by a stupid glass of wine, she curled her fingers around the stem of the wine glass and lifted it.

Bringing the brim of the wine glass to her lips, Kyoko smelled a whiff of the combined scents of blackberry, plum jam, strawberry jam, and dried violet from the ruby red substance. There was more, but she couldn't place all of them.

Unable to resist the lure of the fruity aroma, she took a tentative sip.

The first thing that assaulted her taste buds was an astringent kick she definitely didn't like, and her nose wrinkled, not having expected that. It was swiftly followed, however, by a tart sweetness, and her mind scrambled all over the place trying to register what she was tasting. There were many more components than what had been present in its aroma: blackberry, plum jam, strawberry and also cranberry, vanilla, as well as…

Kyoko took another bigger sip, wanting to grasp more of the delectable nuances, and was astounded to detect just the slightest undertone of velvety chocolate and cinnamon amidst its astringent texture. The sweetness lingered on her tongue even after she'd swallowed and the burning sensation of alcohol raked her throat.

"How is it?"

Kyoko peeked self-consciously at Ren opposite her. He looked extremely curious about her reaction.

"... Different," she mustered, once the burning had receded. "But not as bad as I feared."

Almost immediately she regretted her answer. He'd bought her a bottle of wine beyond what she could afford and she was talking about how bad she'd feared it would be?

Kyoko tried to amend her words, but then Ren smiled, and she stilled. The smile was radiant, beatifical, and he looked—happy, in a gentle sort of way. For some reason, she thought of the dancing bunny sticker he'd texted her earlier, and had to fight back a smile of her own.

"I'm glad," was all he said.

The stately waiter returned to their table then with a new tray.

"The appetiser, salt cod croquettes," he announced.

Kyoko peered apprehensively at the two plates. Each plate contained two golden crispy spheres garnished with parsley. The waiter laid a plate before Ren and Kyoko respectively, then bowed and departed.

"Try one," Ren invited.

She picked up her fork from atop the napkin, the cold steel biting into her skin. Reluctant and remorseful as she felt scoring a free meal off Ren when it was supposed to be the other way around, she was starving, and the croquettes smelled delicious. What was she supposed to do anyway? Refuse to eat and make a scene after his kindness?

Vowing internally that she'd find some way to pay him back, Kyoko speared her fork into the croquette and took a bite.

Her hazel eyes widened. The top layer was crispy, but as she bit through the crunchy crust, a fluffy, rich flavour of fresh cod pervaded her tongue, coupled by creamy béchamel sauce that melted within her mouth. It was salty and crispy and all-round perfection, and she greedily took another bite despite its scalding heat.

Before long, Kyoko had polished off both croquettes, and she leaned back in her armchair, chewing blissfully.

"You like it."

She started.

"Y—yeah," Kyoko mumbled in response to Ren's observation, noticing with a jolt that he still had a single croquette on his own plate. "Sorry, I ate really fast."

"Don't be," he said, his cheek resting against the knuckles of his hand, the one wearing the Patek Philippe wristwatch, as he watched her. "Do you want mine?"

She flushed, tempted, and was simultaneously aware she probably looked like a glutton. "No. It's fine."

"Are you sure?" Ren murmured. "I can tell you like it."

"I'm a fast eater," Kyoko fibbed. "I always eat this fast with any food."

"But I saw a glimpse of that look on your face again, from yesterday, " he said softly, and she felt the strange tension gathering between her thighs once more. "So if you want mine, Mogami-san, you can go ahead and have it."

Kyoko didn't move for a second, and then, marshalling her courage, she reached over, jabbed her fork into his croquette and stuffed it into her mouth. At the same time, she defiantly raised her other hand and shielded what she could of her face as she chewed.

" _Pfft—_ "

Ren had burst out laughing again, and she lowered her hand, watching the mirth transform his aristocratic, handsome features into something more boyish.

"Shtop lapping," Kyoko ordered, her voice muffled with her mouth full, and it only made him laugh harder.

"The next course is here, sir, madam," the waiter's voice announced, and she looked up to see the suited man carrying a new tray of dishes.

"Yes… Thank you," Ren said, lifting his Scotch glass and bringing it to his smiling lips.

The waiter collected their empty plates with practised efficiency and replaced them with new plates of food.

"The smoked trout and beetroot salad," the waiter stated, bowing. He then refilled their glasses with the crystal decanter of Scotch and the wine bottle that he'd left on their table.

Kyoko thanked him and lifted her fork, peering down at the pretty assortment of vivid green leaves, maroon beetroots, radishes, and pink slivers of smoked trout. Digging in, she found it refreshingly cool after the dense saltiness of the croquettes earlier. The trout wasn't as fishy as the cod, and tasted clean, delicate and subtle, like a cleanser.

So this was how the wealthy dined, she wondered. Every course seemed to serve a purpose, to complement the one before.

"This is nice," Kyoko admitted, swallowing the bite. A tad bashfully, she added, "Thank you, Tsuruga-san."

His face softened. "You're welcome."

"Though... Are you okay driving later if you drink?" she probed.

"Don't worry," Ren assured her. "I have a chauffeur arranged later."

"Oh! I nearly forgot." Putting down her fork, Kyoko reached into her backpack and retrieved a neatly folded piece of cotton from one of its compartments. "Your handkerchief, Tsuruga-san!"

Ren's brows rose at the offered handkerchief, and for the first time since she'd met him, he looked completely surprised.

"My handkerchief?" he echoed.

"Yeah, the one I borrowed from you, remember?" Kyoko asked impatiently.

Tilting his head bemusedly, he said, "I don't need it. You can keep it."

"What?" she gawked at him. She knew she looked unsightly, but she didn't care. "Tsuruga-san, I cleaned and ironed your handkerchief for you!"

Ren blinked. "You… ironed my handkerchief?" he said slowly, brows furrowed.

"Well, I couldn't return it to you all wrinkly, could I?" Kyoko demanded, affronted.

There was a long pause, and he finally reached out and took the folded handkerchief from her, his warm calloused fingertips grazing hers and making her gulp.

"Thank you, Mogami-san," he said. "I appreciate it very much."

Kyoko peered firmly down at the remains of her salad, then shovelled forkfuls of dewy leaves into her mouth, trying her utmost to ignore the flaming of her cheeks. "You're welcome."

He chuckled quietly, but for the next few minutes, he said nothing more, and they dined in companionable silence.

The next course—"Magret de Canard", according to the waiter—was promptly served. The new plates contained impeccable slices of pinkened duck meat with a layer of flawlessly roasted tawny skin on top, and which was drizzled with burgundy cherry reduction and paired with roasted potatoes that were brilliantly browned and crisp.

Kyoko could feel her mouth watering just looking at it.

Ren took a slice and slid it past his lips gracefully. He held his cutlery excellently, she thought admiringly.

"It's very good," he remarked, later. "You should try it, Mogami-san."

She nodded mutely, sinking her fork into a syrupy slice and bringing it to her mouth. The taste surpassed even its aesthetic, the duck breast buttery, tender and nectariously juicy. Coordinated with the tangy sweetness from the cherry reduction sauce, it made for a succulent combination, and she fought back a moan.

"I feel so bad enjoying this without Moko-san," Kyoko lamented, taking a sip of the wine to allow the saccharine burn to wash it down.

"Moko-san?" Ren studied her quizzically. "Is that a friend?"

"That's the barista at Starbucks," Kyoko told him, taking another slice. "You remember her, right? You always buy from her."

"Yes," he said. "I remember. Is she a student too?"

"Yeah, but she's in Business Studies!" Kyoko answered. "We study in the same school but not the same major."

"How did the two of you meet?" he asked.

"Oh." Kyoko squirmed. "Well, it's a long story. We met through, um, some boy I used to like."

She definitely didn't want to talk about Shotaro, but she didn't have a choice, since it was true she'd met Kanae because of him.

Ren's features were unchanging, but he slowly placed his fork onto the edge of his plate.

"I see," he said. "Are you still in contact with him?"

Kyoko shook her head as she devoured more of the rosemary-kissed potatoes. "Nope. Not really."

"Do you wish you were?"

She gasped. "No, of course not! I've moved on ages ago!"

"I've been meaning to ask you, Mogami-san," Ren said casually. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Kyoko turned bright red.

"N—no," she stuttered. "Not at all. I've never had one."

 _Urgh_. She berated herself mentally. Why did she have to add that in? It didn't exactly help her look sophisticated in any way. Everyone knew Kanae was the one with a multitude of boyfriends, and that awkward, eccentric Kyoko was forever single.

"How about you, Tsuruga-san?" she babbled, wanting to move past her inadvertent confession. "Do you have one too? Not a boyfriend, I mean, but a girlfriend. Oh, but I—I don't judge either way, so please don't misunderstand!"

She stopped, blushing hard, and decided the best course of action was to shut up. She grabbed the wine glass and took a bigger swallow this time, the burn fizzing through her throat and along her veins, triggering a bizarre sensation of being on fire.

"I don't have either one." Ren smiled at her. "Does that answer your question, Mogami-san?"

Kyoko found it hard to believe that such an attractive man was single. She'd seen the way women looked at him when they'd alighted from the car, and the way some were looking at him now in the restaurant. If he was single, it certainly wasn't because he didn't have a choice.

She stuffed another lush slice of duck breast into her mouth, and mumbled, "Are you sure you're not lying?"

"Why would I lie?" Ren's brows lifted in puzzlement.

"I dunno." Maybe she was tipsier than she thought, for she raised her wine glass impetuously at him. "To singlehood!"

He stared at Kyoko intently for a heartbeat, then raised his Scotch glass and gently tapped it against her glass.

"To singlehood," he said softly.

Kyoko beamed at him before gulping another mouthful of sweet wine.

"I'm a little full," she confessed, looking down at the bit of meat and potatoes left on her plate.

"Then shall we move on to dessert?" Ren suggested calmly.

Kyoko turned stock-still. "There's dessert?"

"Mmhmm." Ren lifted a slender hand, and the waiter bustled over.

A few minutes later, their plates had been cleared, and the waiter placed a new one before her.

"The chocolate soufflé, madam," he said. On her plate was a ceramic white soufflé dish containing an evenly distended rich brown surface sprinkled decadently with white powdered sugar, accompanied by a ceramic milk jug that contained orange vanilla sauce. The waiter refilled their glasses, and then bowed and stepped away.

"Tsuruga-san, you don't have one!" Kyoko exclaimed, noticing that his side of the table had only been replaced by a new but empty china plate.

"It's fine," Ren assured her, raising both hands placatingly when she gaped at him. "I've never had a very hearty appetite, to be honest."

"Really?" Kyoko was shocked. For a man of his size, she'd have expected him to have a mammoth appetite. Though, unlike her, she noted that he had finished his Magret de Canard earlier. "But it's dessert! Don't we have a separate stomach for that?"

His lips twitched. "Why don't you give the soufflé a try then?"

Much as she longed to try it, she felt self-conscious indulging in something he was paying for when he wasn't even eating himself.

"Why don't we share it?" Kyoko asked, reaching over and placing his plate to one side before pushing her own to the center of the table beside the vase of tulips.

His obsidian eyes widened, but instead of objecting as she half-feared, he picked up the dessert spoon lying by her plate and extended it towards her.

"Ladies first," Ren said, with a teasing smile.

Kyoko giggled at his mock display of chivalry. "Thank you."

She pressed the spoon into the surprisingly soft, burnt sienna surface of the chocolate soufflé, breaking the sublime confection apart, and dug into the spongy yet somewhat mushy texture of what reminded her of chocolate mousse. Scooping a portion of it onto her spoon, she brought it to her lips.

It sparked an immediate explosion of ecstasy on her palate, the satiny glide of luscious chocolate—confusingly dense and light at the same time—coating her sensitive tongue, and she exhaled at the exquisite utopia she was in. How anything could taste so polished and divine at the same time, she had no idea.

"Try it with wine," Ren suggested, watching her with a glint in his eyes.

Kyoko obeyed, picking up the refilled wine glass and sipping the ruby red liquid.

Ren's suggestion had been perfect. The sweetened zing of berries and vanilla only accentuated the cultured, glossy tones of chocolate, and the undertones of dark chocolate in the wine as well as its astringency harmonised splendidly with the cloyed chocolate from the soufflé.

By now, the buzz from her wine had settled in the back of her head, making her feel delightfully hazy, and she was guessing that her heart-shaped face was flushed. It was her first time imbibing alcohol, after all, and it was hardly shocking a glass or so of wine had done her in, while Ren had had his Scotch the whole time and remained sober. Maybe she'd even had two glasses, or more. She hadn't kept count of how much she'd been drinking.

"How did you know it would taste so good with wine?" Kyoko questioned Ren, willing herself to concentrate.

"Recioto della Valpolicella is a dessert wine, after all," he divulged. "I selected that for you since you're a beginner, so I didn't want something too dry for you."

"Dry?" she repeated, not comprehending the term. "Isn't wine a liquid? How can liquid be dry… You're drunk..."

She heard him laugh.

"Mogami-san," Ren said affectionately. "Has anyone ever told you just how cute you are?"

Her complexion heated further, and she took another drink of wine. "No."

"Are you all right?" Kyoko couldn't help but think that his baritone voice reminded her distinctly of crushed velvet. He sounded concerned, but she couldn't be sure. "I think you're a little tipsy, Mogami-san."

"I'm going to write all about this on my blog," Kyoko said, not really listening to him. "Today has been an eye-opening experience. I won't forget it."

"You write a blog?" Ren inquired.

"Yes," she affirmed, amidst another spoonful of the chocolate soufflé. "But don't ask me for my blog name. I'm not telling you. I don't even tell Moko-san."

"All right." Kyoko heard rather than saw him smile. Despite herself, she was slightly taken aback that he didn't push at all. "I'll respect that."

The girl dug another spoonful of the soufflé and held it out towards him. "Here. Your turn, Tsuruga-san."

He paused, then bent his raven head and ate delicately from the same spoon she'd eaten from. Her breathing quickened from where she sat as she watched him lick near invisible traces of chocolate off his sensuous lips. His dining etiquette was commendable, considering he remained silent until after he'd finished the chocolate in his mouth. Thinking back, she recalled that he'd never once spoken with food in his mouth.

"It's good," Ren said, onyx eyes bright. "Very good."

Kyoko didn't realise she'd been weaving in her seat until he reached across the table and laid a big hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"Mogami-san," he said. "I think we should go now. You're intoxicated, darling."

 _Darling_. He'd called her that. She tried to process the term, to analyse what it might signify as she would her literature text, but her mind was too pleasantly foggy to think.

"I want to drink more," Kyoko informed him.

"No more, Mogami-san," Ren responded firmly. "Come."

He rose gracefully from his seat, and immediately, the waiter approached him. Ren handed him a glitzy platinum credit card—different from the one yesterday, Kyoko was sure—before going over to where Kyoko sat. He lifted the topcoat from the back of her armchair and draped the oversized garment over her petite shoulders, then effortlessly picked up her heavy backpack by holding the hooped strap on top. He wrapped his other arm around her back and helped her up from the armchair.

"I feel a little dizzy," Kyoko sighed. "But it's the good kind of dizzy, you know?"

Ren chuckled into her ear. "Yes. I know."

With his assistance, they walked out of the restaurant, though Kyoko wasn't entirely conscious of the proceedings around her. All she knew was that they were walking, his heady male scent soothing her olfactory senses, and then somehow they'd made it to the lobby. She heard more voices addressing Ren, heard the sound of thanks, felt something being passed between them, and Ren replying graciously in kind.

Then she felt Ren's attention return solely to her, his arm still placed protectively around her.

"Where do you stay, Mogami-san?"

"I stay…" Kyoko tried to tell him, but suddenly, her address felt unbearably convoluted for her memory to unravel. She supposed she ought to try harder to remember, but he smelled so good and if she told him her address, he'd probably slip her into a cab back home and she would be parted from his warmth and his wonderful scent of cinnamon and whiskey and cologne.

She trailed off into silence.

"Hmm…" She heard Ren hum under his breath, and then, unexpectedly, he slid an arm under the crook of her knees and scooped her up, making her gasp. Her backpack was gone, and she suspected that he had passed it to a valet. With her body securely clasped in his arms, her copper head resting against the broad hardness of his shoulder, he began walking sure-footedly towards the exit of the lobby.

"Where are we going?" Kyoko queried drowsily.

His answer was concise and blunt.

"Home."

 _Home._

And by home, she guessed he didn't mean hers.

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reviewing, it means a lot to me that I'm not forgotten! It really encourages me hearing what you guys think, so please share your thoughts. :) And in response to Lotus Flower, I do have an AO3 account, but I don't really write Skip Beat! fics there, unfortunately. Regardless, I will be upping this fic to an M-rating after this, haha.

I hope you enjoy. xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Verse:** 'Sugar'.

* * *

Kyoko's eyes flew open. The familiar sight of her bedroom ceiling with the peeling tan wallpaper swam into view.

She swallowed, blinking drowsily. Her throat felt unbearably dry like sandpaper and her head heavy. She lifted herself into a sitting position on her bed and emitted a strangled groan at the sensation of bile climbing her throat. The sides of her head were throbbing; it was as if a sledgehammer was carving the inside of her skull. Her vision was mildly blurry.

A hangover. Even though she had never had one before, she knew instinctively that this was one.

Kyoko moaned again, running a shaky hand through her messy copper hair. She looked down at herself, and nearly choked.

There was a topcoat draped over her from under her blanket, and the large coat decidedly did not belong to her. In fact, she had little recollection altogether of even coming home the evening before, let alone how the coat had gotten onto her. The aureate rays of sunlight peeping through the gaps of her orange threadbare curtains were undeniable, however.

She forced herself to calm the stirrings of panic in her belly, and to think.

What had happened after dinner last night?

He'd put his coat around her, had guided her to a lustrous black Mercedes awaiting them at the porte cochere. Since, like her, he'd imbibed that night, a chauffeur had driven them. Kyoko hadn't a clue if the Mercedes had been his own car. A Bugatti, and a Mercedes? He couldn't possibly own both cars, could he?

She lay back down on the hard, stiff bedding and closed her eyes now, ignoring the pulsing of her temples as she tried to think back.

 _If she wasn't so damned inebriated, she'd have been more cognizant of the fact that she was in a Mercedes with Ren._

 _But she was totally plastered, and so she was only vaguely aware of the polished interior of the automobile, of the seating upholstered in expensive leather, of Ren speaking to the chauffeur at the front, then the black sheet of glass that slid down soundlessly and separated them from the chauffeur._

 _His arm was still around her, and she sat there, her copper head against his shoulder, breathing in his cinnamon scent greedily. A part of her wondered if she could get any more intoxicated by his scent. Her blood was roaring in her veins, ringing in her ears, and she mumbled, "I want more wine."_

 _Kyoko heard laughter, and she pouted, annoyed by his amusement. Impetuously she lifted her hand and grabbed hold of his chin, delicate fingers curled around the chiselled line of his jawline._

 _Then she brought his beautiful face towards hers, and saw, to her satisfaction, that he wasn't laughing at her anymore. He was just looking at her with those liquid obsidian eyes that did strange things to a place deep within her belly, and which somehow made the burning of the alcohol seem like a distant memory compared to the scorching heat welling up inside her._

 _She opened her mouth, about to tell him again that she wanted more wine, but for some reason, she couldn't speak. The words wouldn't come to her lips, not when he was looking at her like that, his dark eyes boring into her hazel ones and piercing straight into her soul._

 _Like he was stripping her bare just from his lingering gaze alone._

" _Don't," she whispered._

" _Don't what?" he murmured._

" _Don't fan the flames," she pleaded. "I'll—I'll burn. So, don't..."_

 _Kyoko doubted he understood what she was saying—she barely understood what she meant herself, yet she knew where she was coming from—but then he smiled._

 _"Then burn," he said softly, uncaringly, those dark eyes gleaming, and for the first time since she'd met him, she thought there was something almost cruel in him._

 _For some fucked-up reason, the hint of cruelty proved to be her undoing and, her head spinning from the rush of adrenaline and alcohol, Kyoko leaned over and boldly pressed her lips to him._

 _The moment her lips were against his surprisingly soft ones, she froze, unsure of her decision, but knowing it was too late to retract it. She'd acted on a wild, drunken whim, and now she wasn't sure how to proceed._

 _What was she doing? Had she really just kissed the mystery man that visited Starbucks every week? She knew close to nothing about him, other than his name and that he had an obscene amount of money._

 _And that, loathe as she was to admit it, he made her burn like fucking wildfire._

Kyoko bolted upright on her bed again, then cupped her dishevelled bronze head with a groan as her room spun nauseatingly. This couldn't be real.

She'd gone and kissed him.

She'd kissed Tsuruga Ren.

Still moaning in a mixture of mortification and discomfort, she twisted her head around, and blinked groggily in disbelief when she caught sight of a tray on her night stand. Sitting atop it was a bottle of painkillers as well as a cup of water.

Had she put the items there herself last night? But that was crazy; she couldn't envision her inebriated self possessing the foresight to make preparations to combat a raging hangover the next day.

The only other explanation was…

Kyoko cringed.

What had happened afterwards? She racked her brains harder, determined to wrangle the truth, no matter how humiliating, from them.

 _For a suffocating moment, Ren was motionless, and then—_

 _He shifted his lips against hers, and the next thing she knew he was kissing her back, so unapologetically and so unhesitantly that she felt her head spin further. She could taste the chocolate on his tongue—or maybe it was on her tongue, she didn't know anymore—and the sensation was exhilarating. She ended up parting her lips with a slow sigh as he coaxed them open._

 _And then his velvety tongue met hers, and she shivered. He continued kissing her, lips melded to hers, agile tongue guiding hers into an intimate embrace._

 _Having never been kissed this deeply before, and unused to the overwhelming myriad of sensations, she let out a little keening sound, her vision swimming. She found herself extending both thin arms to cling onto his broad shoulders like a child, wanting to latch herself onto the only solid thing that made sense in the mad chaos of her mind._

 _And in turn, she felt his large hand slide smoothly up from her petite shoulder—which was covered by his topcoat—and it continued sliding north until he gently cupped the small of her bare neck, strands of her bronze hair skimming his knuckles. It was ironic in a way, but the scorching warmth of his skin on hers made her tremble and shiver, and she impulsively pushed herself closer into him as their tongues intertwined._

 _It was too intense, too intimate, and far too much for her overloaded brain to withstand, and her trembling got more violent. She shook uncontrollably, not knowing how to cope with the strange, pervasive heat welling up between her thighs, and in a desperate bid to relieve the building pressure she pressed herself to the hard muscled length of his own thigh beside her._

 _She was burning—she was fucking burning, just as she'd feared…_

 _His soft, cruel voice caressed her mind then._

Then burn.

 _As if sensing her urgency, he slid his thigh deliberately closer to her, and without any shame, without any inhibition, without any conscious thought, she clamped both her bare thighs under her dress around his. Then she grinded against him wantonly, not caring that she was possibly ruining the expensive fabric of his suit pants, not caring that her two-thousand-dollar dress was riding up her legs—all she cared about was chasing the addictive hot friction along his hard thigh and wanting more than anything to relieve the molten pressure in her lower belly._

 _And he'd let her._

 _She'd even felt his long-fingered hand rest gently on the side of her svelte waist, guiding her through the desperate rocking motions of her hips. His other large hand cupped the back of her neck, keeping her steady from the jostling of the automobile._

 _She had been so close, the coiled spring in her abdomen tightening so much that she thought she would crack and fracture, and her ferocious grinding had grown more animalistic in pursuit of that elusive release._

 _She had to—she needed to..._

 _He'd sucked on her trembling tongue, and the muscled length of his thigh, which had been motionless thus far, had bucked up without any warning at all, driving with cold-blooded calculation straight into the source of arousal between her inner thighs. The next thing she knew, white spots of ecstasy had erupted in her vision from the impact, and for a split second she was rendered blind._

 _With a thin scream, she had shattered._

Kyoko collapsed back onto her bed. She felt the ice-cold sting of reality hit her, the same way the ice-cold sting of reality had hit her back in the Mercedes last night once she had come down from the high of release.

 _She stared at him, panting, her wet lips swollen and raw as they broke off their kiss. She could still feel her nether muscles twitching with the occasional, pleasurable aftershock from her orgasm, and she knew even without looking that her panties were drenched through._

 _Dazedly, she reached out a quivering, unsteady hand and, after some hesitation, touched the expensive fabric shrouding his thigh._

 _It was damp, and the sensation pierced through the haze in her head like a knife._

 _She let out a faint scream, tearing herself off him and nearly bumping her head against the tinted car window. He didn't so much as move an inch, just sat there and watched her with a mixture of curiosity and interest. She couldn't help the feeling that he was waiting for and gauging her reaction._

 _She cracked her mouth open, and forced her sluggish vocal chords to work._

 _"Take me home," she croaked, her heart beating so maniacally she thought it would burst. "Now."_

 _And this time, she'd had no trouble reciting her address._

 _A part of her had almost feared he wouldn't let her go from the hungry way he was staring at her, those darkened obsidian eyes—so dark his pupils seemed to swallow his irises whole—piercing her dilated hazel ones, but after what felt like an eternity of silence, he'd spoken, in the same gentle, soft voice he always spoke in._

 _"All right."_

Kyoko sat up on her bed again, and threw her bolster onto the floor. Her face was so red she knew she probably resembled a tomato right now.

This couldn't be real. It couldn't be.

If her alcohol-blurred memory served her correctly, she'd kissed Tsuruga Ren yesterday, then humped him until she came, and once she'd gotten her rocks off, she'd made him bring her home like he was an escort or something.

 _Nooooo!_

She whipped her arms out, wanting to seize more things on her bed to fling to the floor, only to freeze when her hands landed atop the oversized gabardine topcoat now gathered around her legs.

His coat. She remembered being swaddled in it for the rest of the evening following dinner, though she didn't remember with much detail of him bringing her home. She was guessing she'd transitioned into the sleepy stage of inebriation by the time they'd reached her rented apartment, since all she recalled was the overwhelming urge to sleep as he carried her in.

She recoiled now at the idea that he had seen her pathetic tiny two-room flat, which, had she been sober, she would never have wanted to show him. The inside of Kyoko's rented flat was cramped and the secondhand furnishings—almost none of which were hers—were plain, aged and worn. Her 'couch' was a sagging oversized green beanbag, and a plastic foldable table served as both her study desk and dining table. Her rented home highlighted the gap in wealth between them all too drastically, and if there was one thing she hated, it was feeling small next to someone.

She gazed unseeingly at the topcoat, then onto the decadent green silk of her rumpled dress. The sobering realisation of what she was seeing struck her then, and she leaped off the bed, her temples throbbing painfully.

Kyoko had slept on the two-thousand-dollar dress Ren had gotten her. Rather, the dress he had _loaned_ her.

She'd even fucking _humped_ him while wearing the dress, and it was obvious that she'd held absolutely no regard for the precious garment he'd loaned her in that moment.

"Shit," Kyoko moaned, lifting its hem and catching sight of the pattern of wrinkles spread all over the emerald Mulberry silk. "Shit!"

He had not changed her out of her dress, obviously, because it would have been inappropriate, even though she certainly hadn't reciprocated that propriety judging by how she'd jumped him yesterday. And yet he hadn't gone any further when she'd told him she wanted to stop, and had even brought her drunken ass home when she'd requested him to. He hadn't taken advantage of Kyoko's intoxicated state while inside her apartment with her, and had even placed painkillers and water on her nightstand before leaving.

A flare of emotion swelled in her chest, and she bit her lip. The emotion wasn't just remorse and embarrassment at her total lack of decorum so far, but also something else.

He was so kind, so gentle, and so damned sweet that she couldn't believe such a man existed. She grazed her fingers in a caress on the soft, luxuriant material of his extravagant coat, a flush growing on her cheeks as she fought the temptation to sniff it in search for the heady notes of cinnamon and cologne she had scented yesterday.

Kyoko tried to reconcile this gentle, guileless gentleman with the fleeting hints of cruelty she'd thought she'd witnessed in him, but failed. She was becoming increasingly certain she'd imagined witnessing anything anomalous yesterday in her drunken state.

What she was certain of, however, was that she needed to make things right. The problem was how. She had never ironed a material like Mulberry silk before, and she didn't know how she was supposed to iron it without damaging it, but she needed to get the wrinkles out of her dress before she returned it to him. There was also the other problem of whether she had—and she blanched at the thought— _dirtied_ it yesterday when she had…

The memory of the wet spot she'd left on the thigh of Ren's suit pants returned with a vengeance, and she clutched her head, letting out a half-wail, half-groan. She could never face him again. She couldn't. She simply couldn't.

There was nothing she could do to save face, nothi—

Kyoko froze.

Then she scrambled for her backpack, which she found resting on the chair beside her bed, and grabbed her smartphone from inside it.

No new text from him, but she told herself firmly that she wasn't disappointed. Instead, there was one from Kanae.

 _"How was the date?"_

Vowing to reply to her best friend later, she went to the conversation thread with Ren and started typing furiously, her heart thrumming madly with every word she typed.

 _"Hi, Tsuruga-san! Thank you so much for the dinner yesterday. I'm so sorry but I COMPLETELY blacked out once dinner ended and now I really can't remember anything! So I was really surprised to wake up at home this morning. Thank you for bringing me home (I assume)! Your coat is with me, and the dress. I'll return them to you soon, promise!"_

Kyoko scanned through the message, wondering if she'd made the right choice writing what she'd written. But she had no choice. Lying was the only thing she could utilise to feign ignorance of what had happened and move forward. It was also the only way she could live with herself after the shamelessness she'd exhibited yesterday.

She hadn't been ladylike at all. Her crude, wanton behaviour was ghastly in retrospect, especially compared to the sheer class the women at the high-end restaurant had carried themselves with yesterday. Just thinking about how Ren must view her now made her want to disappear off the face of the earth. There had been many other women imbibing wine at the fine-dining restaurant like herself, but she was certain none of them would have done what she'd done in a drunken fit yesterday.

Money couldn't buy class, and it was now evident she had neither.

This wouldn't do. She had to wipe the terrible memory from yesterday out of existence, or she could never be able to look Tsuruga Ren in the eye ever again.

Her mind made up, Kyoko hit "SEND", and her message materialised in a text bubble in their conversation thread.

She waited. And waited.

Still no response.

She didn't know how long she stared desperately at the conversation thread waiting for his text with bated breath, only to jump a foot in the air when a loud, rancorous _bang_ resounded from her front door. The girl instantly winced, her headache amplified by the terrible racket, and she dropped her phone onto her bed before taking a thirsty swig of water from her nightstand.

Then she scrambled clumsily for the flimsy wooden door and swung it open.

"Jesus," Morizumi Kimiko said, one perfectly manicured brow rising as she took in the sight of Kyoko. "You look gross as hell. Shower much?"

Hastily, Kyoko flattened a stray tuft of her mussed bronze hair, aware of her smudged makeup, ghostly white complexion and creased clothing.

"Um, hey," she said, and winced when her voice came out scratchy and hoarse. She forced a plastic smile at the landlord's daughter. "Sorry. What's up?"

" _Sorry, what's up?_ " Kimiko's voice ratcheted up in a mocking falsetto. "What do you think? This month's rent is what's up. Dad says you're late."

Kyoko grimaced.

"R—Right," she forced out. Having lost one of her part-time jobs recently because the restaurant she'd worked in had shut down, her finances were now in dire straits. "I'm so, so sorry. Could you guys give me more time? I promise I'll have it ready next week."

Kimiko observed her French nails for several seconds.

"We can have you move out any minute we want," she stated sweetly. "You know that, right?"

"I do." Kyoko's stomach curled into knots, her nausea intensifying. "I swear I'll get the rent ready next week. I just need a little bit more time."

"Hmph." Kimiko threw her head back in contempt, her dark curls bouncing daintily. "Well, then. Since you're in such a predicament, how about I strike you a deal, Mogami Kyoko?"

"A deal?" Kyoko's confusion mounted.

"Dad's been whining about how dirty the apartment building's been." Kimiko rolled her thickly mascaraed eyes and sighed dramatically. "He wants me to take care of it. So I'm proposing this, Kyoko: if you can help me clean the building in two days, I'll take care of half the rent for you."

Kyoko's mouth fell open, her eyes popping from her sockets. "Wait. Are you serious?"

The small apartment building was only four storeys high, so cleaning it didn't seem all that daunting a project for her. Besides, it was the start of the weekend now, which meant she didn't have school for the next two days. She had a waitressing shift at the Steak and Grill that started Sunday evening, so she would have to try to clean the entire building before the shift commenced. In the meantime, she would simply take cleaning the apartment building as another job to do.

"Yeah, duh." Kimiko folded her arms. "So you in, or what?"

" _Yes!_ " Kyoko clapped her hands exuberantly together, hazel eyes sparkling despite her hangover. "Yes, yes, yes! Thank you so much, Kimiko-chan!"

She thought she saw a tiny sneer curve the other girl's lipsticked mouth, but the mini-sneer transformed swiftly into an innocent smile.

"Yeah, well, get it done within these two days, you hear me?" she ordered. Without bothering to wait for Kyoko's response, she stalked off, her stilettos clacking noisily on the cement floor.

Undeterred by her companion's brusque exit, Kyoko shut the door and shot off excitedly for her shower, deciding she would grab some food once she was done showering. After she ate her mac and cheese, she would start cleaning right away.

Half of this month's rent taken care of, just like that? It was almost too good to be true. Despite everything else that was going on at the moment, she found her mood lightening as she dared herself to actually hope for the future.

Maybe things were finally looking up.

* * *

Things were not looking up.

Kyoko sighed heavily, wiping beads of sweat off her brow with the back of her hand before she went back to rubbing the wet, soapy cement floor with her bath towel. She was currently crouched on all fours along the corridor of the fourth floor—which was the floor she stayed at—her hands wrapped around the sodden beige towel in front of her. While cleaning wasn't a big deal to her, cleaning while suffering from the remnants of a hangover was a first for her, and she hated every minute of the experience.

It was ridiculous! She'd already taken the painkillers and chugged down lots of water, so why was her head still throbbing like an incessantly pulsating heartbeat? Why the hell did her mouth still taste like cotton? Her arms felt like leaden noodles, heavy and sluggish, and she breathed raggedly now, clutching the wet towel harder.

She had to pull through this. She had to. She still needed to work on the stairs (for the first time, she was actually grateful there were no lifts in this building), and the other three floors. She would have to do them all, because having half her rent waived made for a huge difference, and she couldn't possibly miss out on the opportunity. It would lessen an immense burden on her this month, at least until she found an additional new part-time job. She needed to do this.

More resolute than ever, Kyoko picked up the towel and maneuvered herself while still on her knees towards the baby-blue bucket of soapy water positioned beside her. She dipped the towel into the bucket, keeping it there for a few seconds, and then pulled the drenched fabric out.

Then she went back down on all fours and slapped the water-logged towel back onto the cement floor before resuming her cleaning with a rabid fervour despite her sore knees and arms. She crawled forward once she was done with one spot, her slim arms outstretched with the cleaning towel splayed in front of her.

"I can do it," Kyoko chanted under her breath, wiping mindlessly with the ferocity of a madwoman, her arms reduced to a blur. "I can do it. I can do it. I can—"

She wasn't sure how long she stayed hunkered down on all fours, wiping and watching with vague satisfaction as the dark streaks of dirt on the grey floor gradually vanished. She shuffled mechanically forward again to the next spot and resumed cleaning with her moist towel, letting her muscle memory of the monotonous task take over.

It took her a fraction before she registered that she was kneading against something that wasn't flat like the floor, and she lifted her head a little blearily.

Her towel was pressed to the sole of a sleek, cap-toe Italian leather shoe. She stared blankly at the shoe for a minute, unable to process what she was seeing, and she looked up—up to long legs clad in dark trousers, up to a large glass face of a Rolex watch gleaming on the strong wrist of a hand tucked in the trouser pocket, up to a long black cardigan that clung to broad shoulders, and up into a man's familiar sculpted features with piercing dark eyes and quirked brows.

Kyoko stared up at him a beat longer, wondering half to herself if she was imagining the sight.

Then clarity sank in, and she opened her mouth to let rip with a little scream.

"Tsuru—"

The rest of his name was replaced by an, " _Oof_ ," from her mouth when she tried to scramble onto her feet only for her palms and knees to give way on the slippery floor from under her. The cement, covered in a layer of soap buds, came rushing up to greet her as her body slammed frontward onto it with a teeth-rattling thud that drove all the air out of her lungs.

She lay there, too winded to even groan. All she could do was slump there and gasp brokenly like a fish out of water.

If she had been mortified earlier, then she wished she could die right here, right now. Anything was better than this.

Even humping him had been better than this. At least she'd had alcohol to blame for her antics.

Then a large warm hand cupped her diminutive shoulder, and she stiffened. As if sensing her skittish response, he didn't move for a few milliseconds, letting her get used to his touch. Then, very gently, she felt him slide his other arm around the curve of her svelte waist, his long, adroit fingers resting against the flat of her belly and making her shiver.

With his other hand still cupping her thin shoulder to anchor her to him, he carefully and slowly turned her over from where she'd been lying facedown on the floor. She forced her battered muscles into motion and, with some effort, gradually sat up with his help, the girl drawing a rattle of air into her bruised lungs as she did so.

"Th—thank you," Kyoko mumbled, dimly aware of him letting go once he was sure she'd steadied herself. Suddenly, the dryness of her mouth had nothing to do with her hangover, and she wondered again if she was hallucinating. "Um. How—how come you're here, Tsuruga-san?"

He didn't answer, and she realised a microsecond later that his attention was on the scraped skin of her kneecaps, both of which were coloured a raw, shiny pink from kneeling on the soapy cement for so long.

His raven head turned to face her, and she saw that his brows were furrowed with both concern and puzzlement. Despite the smarting of her knees, it took all of her willpower to keep her eyes averted from the sensual, wide-lipped mouth—the same mouth that she had devoured and been devoured by yesterday, his sleek hot tongue slipping between her...

"Why are you cleaning the corridor, Mogami-san?" Ren inquired curiously, ripping her from her stupor with a guilty start.

She floundered inwardly at once, every one of her instincts rioting against telling him the truth. Confessing the truth would mean highlighting the gap of status between them again, and that damned gap had already been emphasised enough yesterday.

But the problem was, she couldn't think of any other explanation no matter how much she sat there and struggled to come up with one. The fact that he was watching her quietly and waiting patiently for a response only heightened her anxiety.

Finally, she said, averting her eyes, "My landlord's daughter offered me a job to help clean the building. So I took it. I don't see a harm in taking anything that pays. That's all."

He said nothing, just looked at her some more, and she fought the urge to squirm at the intensity behind those unfathomable dark eyes. She couldn't tell what he was thinking at all, and it rattled the shit out of her.

She'd lost enough of her dignity already, but she refused to let any more of her discomfort show. Determined to grapple onto some form of control, Kyoko met his piercing onyx gaze steadily, refusing to squirm and break off eye-contact. She kept staring at him tenaciously, even going as far as to mentally count each of his individual eyelashes if it meant maintaining eye-contact.

One thing was for sure: she would fucking look into those bottomless dark abysses forever if it was the last thing she ever did.

"Mogami-san."

"Yeah?" she managed, still staring furiously into his amused dark eyes.

"You might want to get changed," he said.

Baffled, she looked down at herself, and froze.

The front of the white tee she'd changed into after her shower was drenched and saturated with water because of the way she'd planted onto the wet floor earlier, and it didn't help that she wasn't wearing a bra. She hadn't seen the need to wear one given that she was right outside her apartment unit, but she wished more than anything else now that she could turn back time and rethink all the terrible decisions she'd made up to this point.

The girl grabbed her towel and bunched it over her chest, even though a part of her knew it was far too late—that he'd already seen the darker shade of her pebbled nipples pulling taut against the soused fabric.

" _Don't look_!" she said, then flinched violently as the shrillness of her voice elicited a flash of white-hot pain in her sensitive temples.

"Mogami-san?" Ren's lush baritone was gentler, even softer than before, and she knew he must have picked up on her reaction to her own voice.

"Sorry," she forced out in a whisper, still pinning the towel to her chest. She drew her slightly abraded knees close to herself. "Headache. Hangover. Can't..." She coughed. "Can't really talk."

It was ridiculous, really, that he didn't look hungover even though Kyoko was guessing he had imbibed as much Scotch as she had wine. But then again, he hadn't even been drunk the previous night, so she doubted he would be hungover.

She felt his slender, deft fingers slowly close around her trembling wrist, the one holding the towel to her chest. He didn't apply any pressure whatsoever, just rested his calloused fingers there, his thumb on her racing pulse. There was something both intimate and intimidating in knowing that he could feel her heartbeat.

"Mogami-san," he said quietly. "Shall we try something together?"

She peered up at him, her brows knotting together, and he squeezed her hand just a little.

"I'll ask you a question, and you need only nod or shake your head in response. Does that sound acceptable to you?"

Kyoko hesitated, and nodded mutely. She wasn't that hungover—nor was her headache so bad—that she couldn't speak at all, and she knew Ren knew that, but they also knew that this approach would impose less on her already frazzled nerves.

It didn't help her nerves at all, though, when he rewarded her compliance with a warm, affectionate smile that completely stole her breath away.

"In a minute or so, I'm going to help you to your feet so that you can go home and get changed," he said, his musical voice pitched low. "I don't want you to stand up by yourself, because the floor is slippery. Will that be all right?"

Kyoko nodded mutely again, her heart in her mouth. She could feel a flush spreading across her oval-shaped face.

There was a lingering, deliberate pause, and he spoke again, quietly.

"Before that, may I ask a few more questions? Again, you need only nod or shake your head."

She felt slightly alarmed and wary, but found herself nodding a jerky nod.

"Thank you," Ren murmured. He smiled faintly at her, though his voice remained level, almost detached, even. "May I assume, Mogami-san, that your choice to clean the corridor despite your hangover has something to do with your financial situation?"

Her breath hitched, and she was suddenly so, so glad that she wasn't expected to speak. Somehow, knowing that she didn't have to speak—that she didn't have to elaborate or explain herself, that she only had to nod—gave her the courage to tell the truth.

Reluctantly, uncertainly, she nodded; a tiny little bob of her head.

Another loaded pause, during which she could feel his calculating, penetrating dark eyes raking her face. She knew he could feel her pulse going haywire under his thumb, and it only made her heart drum faster.

His next question came as simply as the first.

"Do you think you could forgive me then, if I told you that I didn't like seeing you like this?"

 _Like this?_ What did " _like this"_ even mean? Her thoughts went wild as she scoured through all the possible meanings behind what he'd said.

Seeing her like what? Without makeup on, without a nice dress on? What was it Kimiko had said again about Kyoko?

 _Gross._

Ren must have read the stricken emotions on her countenance, for he said, softly, "Seeing you suffer, Mogami-san."

She stared hard at him in shock, utterly taken off-guard. That was the last thing she had expected him to say.

"I'm not suffering," she blurted out loud, unable to help herself. "I'm not suffering at all, Tsuruga-san. I'm very lucky. I have a place to stay in, and I have friends who care for me. I have a part-time job. I major in literature, which is my favourite subject in the world. And I had a wonderful meal yesterday with a very kind person." She took a deep breath. "So, I don't think I'm having a hard time at all. I think I'm very blessed."

Ren gazed at her, but Kyoko knew she wasn't mistaking the tender softness in his onyx eyes this time.

"You're right. Let me clarify," he answered gently. "When I said that I didn't like seeing you suffer, I meant that I didn't like seeing those abrasions on your knees. I didn't like seeing you cleaning and working when you were hungover and unwell. And I didn't like seeing that I could provide a much more comfortable life for you, but knowing I've done very little of that."

Kyoko's brows knitted together in befuddlement. "What do you mean? I don't… There's nothing you could have done, Tsuruga-san."

The corners of his flawless lips lifted slowly into a cryptic smile, and his thumb stroked the junction between her palm and wrist at where her escalating pulse was. She didn't know why, but her heart was pounding wildly again.

Or rather, Kyoko suspected that it had never once slowed down since he'd arrived.

But then, much to her surprise and disappointment, he let her hand go, his own hand moving in a way so that the light reflected off into little rainbow colours from the metallic-glass face of his Rolex. The prismatic array of colours seemed to hypnotise her, keeping her immobile as they played out like a miniature rainbow before her eyes.

"Let's resume our little game and try a few more questions, shall we?" Ren prompted calmly, but something about his calm reminded her of that before a storm. She swallowed, but couldn't resist, not even in the slightest.

She nodded.

He didn't move, but she didn't miss the intrigued gleam in his dark eyes as he spoke silkily.

"You mentioned before, Mogami-san, that you take anything that pays. Well then—how would you like to sign a contract with me?"

The walls around her seemed to spin. _A contract?_

"Of course, you don't know what the contract entails, so you can't nod or shake your head yet," he said mildly, before she could respond. "But I'll preface it with the closest comparison I can think of."

He tilted his glossy ebony head sideways, watching her like a cat.

"Have you," he said softly, "ever heard of sugar dating?"

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter, and thank you to anyone who took the time out to read this one. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Anyway, stay safe and healthy, everyone! xx


End file.
